The Devil's Frozen Heart
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: It's not easy to undo a lifetime of doubt and despair. Slowly, the wayward Son of Sparda and the Queen of Arendelle shall find forgiveness in each other's arms. Vergil/Elsa, with Anna and Dante running interference.
1. The Queen and the Devil

_With his powers run wild after his defeat, the man called Vergil hurtled through time and space. He comes to rest in the kingdom of Arendelle, a land that time forgot. His arrival may be most fortuitous. With the usurper Hans of the Southern Isles banished to his homeland to await his family's judgment, peace has returned. Yet the young queen remains troubled by her past and the powers she never asked for._

_The road to forgiveness is long and arduous. The queen and the demon shall walk it together, for a while at least._

* * *

Something far and away calls him back from his nightmares of servitude. It's faint, it might not even be there, but it is all he has. He claws his way through the darkness, and the darkness claws back. It tears at him until his flesh is stripped away and he can hardly move, hardly stand, until the eyes sear themselves into his mind and he screams with silent pain. The light that had been calling, the light that is not light at all, but _eyes_, three horrible red eyes; it burns like the fires of hell, burns him until there is only ash where his soul had been. At last they fade into a watchful malicious contentment. A voice as deep as a mountain bids him rise. Without thinking, he does, and the voice laughs inside him, yet the fire still burns, hotter than before. He wants to scream again, but the sound that comes from his mouth is not a scream. It isn't even human.

His breathing is fast and shallow as he comes to. The three dots of light that he had thought were eyes turn out to be nothing but candles on a tabletop. He struggles to sit up and finds that the darkness he had been fighting is instead a set of bedsheets, soft and well-made in more ways than one. He scowls in disgust at his moment of panic, then realizes what the feel of the sheets against his skin represents. The dark armor is gone. It was never really his, just a 'gift' from his master. He wonders for a moment what happened to it. _It's no longer my concern. _The sound of his own thoughts inside his mind shocks him. There is no stab of pain that used to swiftly accompany any potentially rebellious notions. There's just...nothing.

He falls back against the pillow, his wandering gaze searching the room for some idea where he might have ended up. Unlike the castle on Mallet Island, crumbling and rotted and haunted by the vanguard of his former master's army, this one appears orderly and well-maintained. _The only nightmares here are the ones you carry with you..._

His eyes dart towards the door. There are footsteps outside. He looks about the room again, more quickly this time, searching for the best place to stand to greet his host. As the footsteps draw nearer however, he's overcome by a sudden uncharacteristic desire to stay exactly where he is. And so he does, but not before testing the sheets for any weakness in the way they'd been applied to the bed. _Perhaps once I find out who's been holding me here, I'll have managed enough strength for a quick escape..._

* * *

The best laid plans of mice and half-demon-half-men gang aft agley, as an old Scotsman might have said. Whatever his plans are or might have been, he subconsciously (though very decisively) throws them out of the window by the foot of the bed when the door finally opens. A stunning young woman with hair as white as his and large sky-blue eyes crosses the threshold. Her heels click against the stone floor and he struggles to tear his attention away from her glittering dress as she comes closer. He finds his voice somehow, hoarser and more worn then the last time he can remember hearing it. "Where am I?"

"You're safe." Her voice is soothing, calms him though he struggles to remain on edge. "You're in the castle of Arendelle." The name conjures up distant memories of dusty rooms and dreary geography studies that vanish as quickly as they arrived. "I am Elsa; _Queen_ Elsa." she corrects herself. "I still haven't gotten used to that..." In spite of himself, he's impressed with the matter-of-fact way she says it; not a hint of pride or vanity, just a simple fact. She brushes aside the curtain that hangs across the window and the last rays of the setting sun catch her dress, almost blinding him. She gazes out of the window for a long quiet moment, and he takes the opportunity to study her. She's a slender thing, almost too slender. The dress that captivated him from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her clings to her body tightly (though was that really all that had captivated him about her?). He tries not to think about what might lie beneath. An almost wistful look crosses her face as she looks away to the north.

He stares at her elegant profile just a little too long before he thinks to ask, "How did I get here?"

She looks at him cautiously. "You fell into the harbor three days ago." she says. "No one knows where you came from. When they pulled you out, you were...burning."

"Burning..."

"With this horrible blue fire. I had to come down and put you out myself."

"How?"

"What?" She seems startled. She hadn't meant to say that much.

"How did you put me out?" he asks.

"I..." She turns away, not to the window and the dying light, but to a dark and empty corner of the room. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Not even a hint?" he asks dryly. He sits up, puts his bare feet to the cold stone floor and tries to stand. He sways unsteadily, but takes a step toward her. His vision blurs suddenly. His heart feels as if it wants to burst from his chest, and he crumples to the floor. He thinks he can hear the queen gasp before it all goes dark.

* * *

It is still dark the next time he regains consciousness. He stares vacantly at the ceiling. He hears voices at the door, but he is too tired to focus on them. He hears her coming, hears her heels clicking against the stone more quietly than before. From the corner of his eye, he watches as she leans in closer. "Hello?" she whispers. He's too tired to answer, too tired even to reproach himself for the way his stomach flutters when he hears her. She's even more beautiful now, lips parted in concern. "Can you hear me?" she asks. He nods about a quarter of an inch. Her shoulders sag a little in relief, and she _almost_ smiles. He wishes he could too.

She sits down beside him at the edge of the bed. "Who are you?" she asks softly. He lets his head roll to the side, away from her wide searching eyes. She lays a hand atop his. He's shocked at how cold it is, even through the warmth and fabric of the sheets. "That fire wasn't natural..." Was that hope in her voice? "Are you...are you like me?"

The coldness of her hand reminds him of who he is. A whisper of a name comes to his ears; a name he thought he would never hear again. He hardens his mind and heart and turns to face her. "My name is Vergil. I am a son of the Dark Knight Sparda. And I am _nothing_ like you."


	2. Alone With His Thoughts

_"Cold be hand and heart and bone,_  
_and cold be sleep under stone:_  
_never more to wake on stony bed,_  
_never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead._  
_In the black wind the stars shall die,_  
_and still on gold here let them lie,_  
_till the dark lord lifts his hand_  
_over dead sea and withered land."_ \- J.R.R Tolkien's Fellowship of the Ring

* * *

A cold wind blows that night, even inside the castle. No matter how hard Vergil tries, how much he trembles alone in that room under his sheets of silk, it will not let up. He tosses and turns; he watches the candles until they sputter and die; and he curses the world. He curses the emperor, he curses his brother, he curses his father (but never his mother), he curses the queen and the things he knows that he should not feel for a mere human. And he curses himself once the anger has passed, for he dares not cling to it as he once did.

_No one has escaped the demon king before,_ he thinks to himself. _Perhaps it's fitting that a Son of Sparda should be the first._ _But where do I go from here? Even _**his**_ power could not stand against Dante_... He cannot say how he knows, but he does: Mundus is gone.

He yearns to stand at the window and look at the night sky. Even in the depths of his loneliness and anger, his regret and his blind impotent rage, the stars have always provided some measure of comfort. He wonders if he could ever be strong enough to fly through the vast abyss of space, to soar amongst the stars until he found new worlds, with new forms and ways of life undreamed of by the fairest or foulest minds alike. _What use is there in planning for the future? _he realizes. _I can hardly even stand._

The thought of one weakness leads him to another. _Why does that woman, that...Elsa, bother me so? I don't even know her. Only what she is, what she looks like, what she smells like... _He pounds a fist against his leg savagely. _Useless!_ He takes slow deep breaths to calm himself. _Keep it together. You are a Son of Sparda. You will not let some foolish slip of a girl distract you._

_Distract me from what?_ he asks suddenly. _My search for power is over. If I go back, I will be doomed to walk the same path again._

_There are other ways to achieve power. Your father could love; why can't you?_

_Love?_ Vergil grits his teeth. _What does love have to do with this? I don't even know her!_

_Who can say what love will do if they have not felt it?_

He smirks. V_ery trite. _The angry smile fades slowly as he wonders. _Was he right? My loudmouthed braggart of a brother...is he really stronger than me? _There is no answer. Vergil loses himself in voiceless thoughts until the light starts to rise. _I've been a fool,_ he decides at length. _When she returns, I will make amends._

_IF she returns..._

* * *

The hours pass in silence. He searches within for the strength of his father. Yet the more he looks, the harder it is to concentrate. The sounds of the castle coming to life all around him and the blood rushing through his ears are like thunder to his restless spirit. When he re-emerges for the fifth time, he thinks of giving in to his anger and letting that do the work. Instead, he breathes in deep again, letting the sounds wash over him rather than fighting for his peace of mind. Down, down, down he goes into the center of himself. With each passing moment, he feels a trickle of life enter his body again. At first he revels in it, but the joy threatens to take him up with it, so he lets it go.

It is something deeper than sleep, more active, yet it forces him to be passive as well. He seeks out the fibers of his former self and they seek him out as well, clamoring for his attention. He struggles to keep his mind empty, sardonically aware of the inherent paradox. _I search for nothingness, but my search is still something._

At length, he opens his eyes and his mind, and returns to himself. The room appears exactly as he had left it. There is still no trace of the queen. Despite his renewed strength, he can't help but feel as if something is missing. _There is more work to be done. I will speak to her when I am whole._ he thinks.

_Wait,_ another part of him says. _There is nothing to gain by being impatient._

_But there is nothing to lose._

_Nothing except your self-respect. You would seek her out? A mere human? Why does she matter to you? Retrieve your power and be rid of her and this Arendelle._

_The old me died in the Demon Realm. I will not make the same mistakes again._

The conversation rages on throughout the day. Would it comfort him, do you think, to know that the queen was waging a similar battle with herself at that very moment? But comfort is still ahead, through hardship and friendship alike.


	3. The Devil Comes Out To Play

_You do it to yourself, you do,_

_And that's what really hurts_

_Is you do it to yourself,_

_Just you; you and no one else._

_You do it to yourself._

_You do it to yourself._\- Just by Radiohead

* * *

The morning sun finds the former invalid Vergil standing on his head. He's been up for hours; with much of his old strength back, he'd found it even more impossible to stay in bed and sleep, so he decided to get a quick workout in. As is so often the case however, a quick workout for a man with demon blood in his veins would give lesser, mortal men a heart attack. And he is a man now, he reflects. The urges that he had fought so hard against in his youth are back in full force, and they've brought friends.

As the bells begin to toll seven o'clock, Vergil leaps to his feet in one smooth motion. He lands and pauses, partly for the absent crowd, and partly to regain his breath. He wishes he still had Yamato for an extra flourish. Perhaps it had been found with him when he arrived (however he managed it); he can't recall if it had been transformed into the greatsword he wielded as the so-called dark angel... _It's certainly worth asking the queen about._

_And is that all you want to ask her? _the mocking voice in his head asks. He ignores it and heads for the door. _You should ask for a change of clothes. These rags you're wearing are unbefitting a Son of Sparda._

_Are you going to be here much longer? _Vergil asks the voice. _I'd almost started looking forward to having my mind to myself._

_You already do, _the voice answers. _There's no one else in here._

He stops as his hand comes to rest on the door handle. _Am I of two minds on everything? Must I ask you before deciding which foot to place before the other?_

_This shouldn't be a surprise. You have been torn between worlds all your life: the world of your father and the world of your mother. You can't keep running forever. You have to choose._

Vergil shakes his head. "It seems my recovery was not as complete as I thought." he murmurs. He opens the door and nearly runs into a couple of servants bearing an armful of clean sheets on the other side. The man stumbles. Against his baser demonic instincts, Vergil reaches out to steady him. "I'm terribly sorry sir! I was just about to knock." the man apologizes.

What should he say? What should he do? His brother would shrug it off with a laugh and a joke and a winning smile, while he can do none of those. He forgot how to laugh quite some time ago, he can't tell the kind of joke the situation calls for, and a smile... Vergil settles for what he hopes is a friendly nod and says, "There's nothing to be sorry about. I should have heard you coming."

The woman smiles, which Vergil studies intently, hoping to find a secluded mirror to try one of his own in later. "I hope you don't mind; we were just coming in to tidy up a bit." she says.

Vergil steps aside for them. "Not at all. I was..." His voice fades away as an unbidden image of Elsa's face when he introduced himself flashes before his eyes. _You've done far worse than offhandedly insult someone_, the voice whispers. "Where is the queen?" he asks abruptly.

The man hesitates before answering. "Queen Elsa is probably in the great hall."

"She has to sit on that throne all day now, the poor dear." the woman adds.

"You've known her for some time." Vergil observes.

"We've been with the family since before they were born." the man says with a touch of pride.

"It was awfully hard after their parents died." the woman says, and the man nods sadly.

"They?"

"Her Highness and Princess Anna. They had a rather...difficult relationship." There is so much weight in that brief pause; the man knows more than he's saying.

"But that's all behind them now." the woman says gratefully. "Now that they can actually talk to one another."

"I see." Vergil hopes that didn't sound as ominous as he thinks it did. "I won't keep you any longer." Again he wishes that he could smile; the best he can do is to stand slightly less stiffly than usual. "Thank you for your time...?"

"My name is Kai, and this is my wife Gerda." the man says, gesturing to himself and the woman as well as he can with an armful of sheets.

Vergil curls his lips upward faintly in what he hopes will pass for a smile. "If all goes well, I'll be out of your way for some time. I have some explaining to do."

They bid him cheerful, though not effusive, farewells and he walks past them to the stairs. _This kind of life doesn't suit you, _the voice says. _You'd be better off with the demons._

_What makes you think they weren't in disguise?_

_Too commonplace._

_Aren't you the snob._

_You are, aren't you? _Vergil comes to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. _And that's the least of your problems._

He clenches his hand into a fist to keep from covering his face. _You've managed to become worse than my brother. Leave me._

_Only because it suits me._

He waits to see if the voice is true to its word. It seems so. He unclenches his fist and forces himself to breathe, to relax. "Now comes the hard part." he says aloud.


	4. Reunion

_And so they circle in_

_Total fascination,_

_Turning rings around each other._

_And she knows he doesn't know_

_That he's in love._

_And tomorrow never comes,_

_And the future fills with memories_

_Of two people so in love..._

_And tomorrow never comes,_

_And the future fills with memories_

_Of two people so in love..._ \- Annie Watches by Lynn Hilary

* * *

Queen Elsa's pale beautiful face is awash in a multitude of conflicting emotions. He can see fear there; fear of what? His demonic heritage? There is curiosity mingled with that fear, and just before a mask of regal indifference falls into place, a hint of something else, something that worries him more than all the others. "Your Majesty," Vergil says, with a deep courteous bow. "Since our last meeting, I've come to regret the way we parted. I was intolerably rude, and I...beg your forgiveness." The words fall easily from his lips as he tells himself, tells the voice that even now regards him with silent scorn, that they're just words, mindless flattery, the kind he's always been good at, though he hated having to rely on them.

She looks at him in a way that makes him worry he might be underdressed for court. The simple white tunic and leggings which he had found himself in two days before and which he wears even now, while they may not have not his first choice, suited him fine in the privacy of his room; but in the midst of the lords and ladies of Arendelle he feels ill at ease. Though they may be few in number, the finery of their attire is not lessened for it. Not for the first time, Vergil wishes he had his old coat back.

Then she speaks. "I accept your apology, Son of Sparda." she says. Vergil bows again, though he's still strangely anxious. "If there's nothing else, I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to..."

"There is nothing else that troubles me. Thank you your Majesty." he says. He's lying. He steps back to let the next person take his place and walks briskly to a far corner of the room that he knew would be empty, having kept his eyes upon it before the queen had addressed him (and his ears after he started to speak).

For the next hour, he keeps himself busy by watching the lords and ladies as they make their cases to the queen, watching the queen as she hears them out, watching the queen's subject accept her verdict with as much dignity as they can muster, no matter the outcome. He admires her poise from afar, averting his eyes now and then when he thinks she might catch on.

He wonders if he should approach her after the public reception ends, but as he is about to call her name, a swarm of advisers appears from out of nowhere and bustle around her. He watches them leave from his position against the wall. "You'd never catch me in that line of work." he mutters. "I guess I'll look about the castle until she's free."

* * *

In spite of himself, Vergil is impressed with the castle of Arendelle. Well-built, well-lit, spacious and elegant; everything Mallet Island's had not been. He pauses at the entrance to a courtyard, with a beautiful garden and a tiny little stream running down the middle. He frowns in disbelief at the ducks both large and small paddling about in the stream. _It's so...wholesome,_ he thinks to himself. _It doesn't feel real. But what does?_

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He tries, he really does try not to let his stomach lurch like that when the queen says something, but she caught him off guard. _She does that a lot._ he thinks darkly to himself. Aloud, he says, "I suppose so" and hopes that he doesn't sound snide.

"I wish I could go in." There's an almost plaintive note in her voice, and he glances at her in confusion.

"Then why don't you?" he says. Elsa seems to shrink a little, clutching at herself. "You are the queen, aren't you?" he says. _Like she needs to be reminded..._

"That's Anna's special place; I-I couldn't..." she stammers.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"What?"

Vergil holds out his hand. "Do you trust me?" he asks again.

Elsa looks at his hand with her large somber eyes, then at him, and seems to shrink even more. "No... I-I don't even know you."

A corner of his mouth lifts in a sardonic smile. "On the whole, I'd say that's a good thing." He holds out his hand again. "But just this once."

Suddenly he worries he's pushed her too far, and for what? A walk in the park? But then she places her hand in his and they forget how to breathe. Her skin is so soft, so smooth, so pale, so cold, so... He has no more words, so he takes a deep breath, as deep as he can without advertising the fact, and steps into the light. Elsa stops and shakes her head nervously, but he pulls on her hand encouragingly, and then she's there beside him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her other hand, and then she laughs, laughs again, then she's laughing, dazzling, glittering, sparkling, wonderful wonderful... She's let go of his hand now, but he doesn't care, he just wants to watch as she twirls around, arms outstretched to take in the whole of the courtyard, the whole of the castle, the whole of the world.

When the moment dies and the faintest hint of a cloud passes overhead, Vergil can see that he's in love. Perhaps Elsa does too; when she turns to him, he sees that look behind her eyes once more. He clears his throat. "We should...go." he mutters.

"Yes, we should- I mean, what would someone think if they saw us...?" She takes after her sister more than she knows. They're silent for a while, looking at anything except one other. She holds out her hand at last, and it's trembling. "Tomorrow then." she says hesitantly.

He bends low to kiss the back of her hand. "Tomorrow it is." he murmurs. She blushes, she actually blushes, and hurries away. She stops for a moment at the entrance (though from this angle it's more of an exit). He smiles at her; it comes so easily now, so effortlessly. She smiles back, lowering her head slightly to look at him coyly through her immaculately combed lashes. _Does she know what she's doing to me?_ Vergil almost moans to himself. Then she's gone, with nothing but the warmth in his heart to remind him that she had been there.

There are no voices in their heads that night, no whispers of their failings, no cold hand of fear gripping their hearts as they lie awake gazing at the ceiling. As soon as their doors close, they break into identical astonished smiles which last until well after dawn.


	5. Sunshine

_'Cause you are my medicine_  
_When you're close to me..._  
_When you're close to me._ \- On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz

* * *

Elsa is already there when he opens the door, her hands slowly twisting together as she clutches them to her chest. Vergil busies himself with making sure the door is closed before he trusts himself to ask, "How long were you waiting?"

"Not long." she assures him with a nervous smile, which he still remembers how to return. "Did you sleep well?" she asks.

"I did actually; better than I'd slept in a long time." he says. He isn't lying. She beams happily and he could kiss her. "What about you?"

Somehow that was the wrong thing to say. She _wilts_. "I'm fine." she says. Memories of sleepless nights beyond counting bear down upon her; she hunches her shoulders defensively. "I'm always fine." She gathers up her dress and hurries past him to the stairs.

He calls her name without thinking. "Elsa...!" She turns back to face him. He finds himself counting the heartbeats until he can look into her deep blue eyes once more. "Your Majesty," Vergil corrects himself. "It would be my honor to accompany you." He's disgusted at the way he grovels, and hopes she doesn't think less of him for it. Elsa looks at him without speaking, her face unreadable. Finally she says, "No. The honor is mine." She smiles, but it is small and timid compared to what it had been, and holds out a lily-white hand to him. He takes it, his heart lightening even as it skips a beat when he touches her.

They walk down the stairs together, slowly, carefully, elegantly, pretending not to care if anyone sees. They gaze at one other out of the corners of their eyes, both wishing that this moment could last forever. But it doesn't, and the very next one sees Elsa pull her hand free uncomfortably as they reach the bottom. Vergil says nothing, but the noxious self-loathing begins to bubble anew. They walk the halls in silence, unsure of what to say.

As they pass the library, Elsa is the first to speak. "Tell me about Sparda." she says awkwardly.

Vergil's face is carefully neutral. "There's not much to say. He was my father, and a good man." He adds reluctantly, "I wish I was more like him."

"What was he like?" Elsa asks.

A natural question, to which he can only say, "He was a good man."

Elsa hugs herself in the uncomfortable quiet that follows, caressing her forearms slowly. Vergil idly wishes _he_ could do that to her, then regards that thought and himself with ill-focused scorn. "You're awfully young to be a queen." he says abruptly.

Her steps falter. "My mother...and father...they..." He recognizes the pain of loss in the words left unspoken.

"I'm sorry." he offers lamely. She doesn't say anything. He shivers as a sudden gust of cold air blows past them.

"I miss them..." she whispers, and the chill grows ever deeper. He's so struck by her fragility that he doesn't notice the ice beneath her feet.

Suddenly it falls into place. "How long have you been able to do this?" Vergil asks.

"Do what?" Elsa asks. She isn't fooling anybody.

"This." he says. He gestures into the wind. "I felt it the first night I regained consciousness, after I...insulted you."

She closes her eyes and takes quick shuddering breaths. "What you said to me...it hurt." she says at last, and it feels like he's been stabbed. "I thought I'd found someone who knew what it was like to be alone. To have something _wrong_ with them; something that they can't control..."

"I do know what that's like." he says quietly.

"You do?" she whispers, with a look of desperate hope that hurts him more than the wind ever could.

"My brother and I are not what you might call ordinary. When his powers awakened, the first thing he did was run headlong down a skyscraper, gunning down a flock of Bloodgoyles as he went. He did get swallowed by a demon whale though; that's another thing I'll never let him live down."

Elsa laughs in disbelief. The cold begins to dwindle. "He sounds like quite the character." she says.

"Think that's bad? You should hear what happened to me." Vergil says, but before he can say anything else, someone far away calls Elsa's name. The queen turns to see who it is, and has just enough time to turn back to Vergil with a smile and a brief "Speaking of siblings..." before another slender young woman appears, her vibrant red hair flying out behind her, and practically collides with Elsa, flinging her arms tight around her. Vergil looks on as the newcomer pulls away for a moment to look the queen in the eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?" she asks in a rush.

Elsa smiles fondly, and the air is warm again. "I'm fine Anna. I just..." Her voice trails off; she shrugs almost bashfully before returning to Anna's embrace. They hold each other for a long time, leaving Vergil feeling somewhat unneeded. When he tries to edge past them, however, the redhead opens one eye and glares at him. "And where do you think you're going?" she says as menacingly as she can while still hugging her sister.

"To my room. If it IS still my room. You seem to have a grudge, if your tone is anything to go by." Vergil replies coolly.

"A grudge?" she splutters, trying to untangle herself from Elsa, who clearly knows her sister well; she's clinging to the redhead even more tightly than before with a determined smile on her face. The smile's contagious and soon Vergil's showing symptoms, which only serves to make Anna angrier. "Elsaaa..." she half-grumbles half-whines. Elsa laughs, but the laugh quickly turns into a yelp of surprise when Anna breaks free and scrambles away to stand toe-to-toe with the amused Vergil with her face scrunched up and her hands on her hips in an effort to look imposing. "Do you have any idea how hard she was crying the other night?" she demands of him.

He and Elsa wince in ill-disguised shock, but he recovers quickly enough to say, "The past is in the past. She certainly doesn't seem to be crying now. In fact, I would take care if I were you. Who knows what she's planning..." The queen takes that as her cue and lunges forward, wrestling Anna to the ground. Ignoring her half-hearted screams for mercy, Elsa's fingers dance along her sister's sides, and the hallway echoes with their lovely peals of laughter. Several gleeful moments later, Elsa stops to look for Vergil and sees him ascending a distant staircase. While Anna gasps for breath, Elsa gazes after him, her smile faltering as he disappears upstairs, too lost in his own inner turmoil to feel her eyes upon him.

"Your turn!" Anna yells, taking advantage of her older sister's distraction and swiftly turning the tables. Elsa lets out a decidedly undignified shriek, but turnabout is fair play, as they say, and it is only the eventual intervention of a passing snowman that frees her to attend to her duties.


	6. The Silence of the Night

_When you're alone, silence is all you know..._

_When you're alone, silence is all you know..._

_Let in the noise and let it grow._

_When you're alone, silence is all you see..._

_When you're alone, silence is all you'll be..._

_Give me your hand and come to me. _\- Abigail's Song, written by Murray Gold and performed by Katherine Jenkins

* * *

A soft knock at the door rouses Vergil from his dark and lonely thoughts. He staggers to the door, hoping against hope...

For once, his hope is repaid. Elsa stands before him once again, clad in a luscious black nightgown. He doesn't know much about fashion, but he knows what he likes, and he likes the way it contrasts with her skin and the beautiful braid of hair across her left shoulder, though perhaps 'likes' is too weak a word for how it makes him feel. "Did I wake you?" she asks in a low nervous whisper that thrills him to the bone.

"No, I was...no." he finishes simply.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking..." she says. She looks tired. Distraught. Worn down by the relentless sorrow marching about in her head. She turns to go.

"Elsa." he hisses. She walks away. He hurries after her. "Elsa!" he hisses again. She keeps walking, keeps forcing back the tears. He follows her until she reaches her room, and when she sees him beside her, there is a look of such intense relief on her face that he can hardly stand it. "Talk to me." he urges her, not sure how he's mustered up the nerve to do this. She's fighting a losing battle; the tears keep coming, shimmering in the candlelight, no matter how hard she brushes them away. The floor beneath them turns to ice, and for a moment, he's torn between the sense of decorum that he has instilled in himself and the feelings that on good nights (nights when the voice of failure and despair can leave well enough alone) he might call love. Just for a moment. Then he surrenders.

Vergil steps forward and encloses Elsa in his arms. She stiffens in surprise, then slowly relaxes into his embrace. His pulse is pounding like he just fought off a horde of Damned Chessmen. He's never done this before. Is he supposed to murmur sweet nothings into her ear? Stroke her back? Rock her gently from side to side as he would an infant if a mother was ever brave enough to entrust him with one? All of the above? None of the above? Dante would know what to do. Dante always knew what to do. Manipulated and beaten by a sadistic scheming mortal who wanted to become more than, less than what he was? Charge back up the tower after him. No questions asked. No hesitation. The man of action. Vergil has always preferred to sit back and observe, to let things go just a little further before he acts. Now he worries it's made him indecisive. He worries what Elsa is thinking. He always worries what Elsa is thinking. He always worries what anyone is thinking now.

His frantic thoughts are brought to a halt when she pulls away from him and looks pleadingly into his eyes. "Will you stay with me?" she whispers.

"How could I refuse such a blatantly improper offer?" he replies. She blushes, and he smiles in what he fervently hopes is not an intimidating manner. "Lead the way." Hesitantly, she takes him by the hand and leads him into her chambers, casting an endearing look in both directions before closing the door behind them.

The room is dark. The faint traces of moonshine from behind a curtain are the only source of light, but Vergil can still see her. He hears the fabric of her nightgown rustle as she shifts in place, he smells the lightest touch of vanilla upon her skin (the only perfume she'll use), he feels her walk softly to the window and throw open the curtain. The moonlight falls sparkling into her hair. He is spellbound. Starstruck. Struck dumb. Elsa turns to him, and whatever's inside him hurts even more. "Why didn't you wake your sister?" Vergil asks her quietly.

She looks ashamed. "I can't talk to her about every little thing. It wouldn't be right. She has her own life to lead. Her own lov-" She puts a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

"She loves you." Vergil says. He files away what she might have said to think about some another time.

"I know she does. And I...I love her." Elsa says softly. "I just..." He comes to stand at her side, marveling at his own calm. "I don't want her to worry." she finishes. He wonders if he should try to touch her, to put an arm around her shoulders or her waist, and that last thought takes him back into dangerous territory. He struggles to find his way free of those thoughts and the room falls silent.

"Thank you for coming." Elsa says at last, smiling shyly as she does.

"We may as well be lonely together." Vergil says. He instantly regrets it. It's too harsh, too critical, he tried too hard to be deep and meaningful...but she doesn't seem to mind. She reaches for his hand, but she doesn't try to hold it, just brushes her fingers against his so he can practically feel the sparks fly as they touch. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" he asks, trying desperately to change the subject. Elsa shakes her head. "Neither could I." he says. The silence irks him somehow. He should find it comforting just to be so close to her, but no... "I have these...thoughts. They won't stop." He feels her eyes on him, urging him to do something, to say something. But what? "'You will never be like your father.' 'The human is beneath you.' 'You deserve this.'" He recites the litany through gritted teeth.

They are silent again, but it's different this time. He's opened up to her more than he knows; for a moment, it's as if Elsa can look into his heart and see the things that seethe at the edge of awareness. "It's different for me." she admits. "They're not voices or thoughts. Maybe I could fight them if they were. It's just...me. I can barely get out of bed in the morning; I just want to sit there and _die_." Vergil can't even look at her right now. He's not sure how he's still listening and not wrapping her up in another hug. "I am _not_ a monster." Elsa says shakily. "Anna..showed me. But why do I still feel like one? Why...why do I feel like if I let my guard down for just one second, something bad is going to happen?"

Frost begins to form upon the window as Vergil tries, almost in vain, to say something. "This may be an imposition, but...would you like a hug, your Majesty?" he says at last.

The queen turns to him, a measure of her royal poise reasserting itself. "I might, if you stop calling me 'your Majesty'." she says.

"Then...would you like a hug...Elsa?" he asks somewhat stiffly.

"Yes, I would." she whispers, and before he has time to prepare himself, she steps forward and delicately wraps her arms about him. His heart feels like it wants to jump out of his chest again, but in a good way this time. He shivers as she nuzzles the side of his neck and lets out a hum of satisfaction. Where did she learn how to do that? Probably instinctual, or something left over from her childhood. He really wishes he could stop thinking about her parents right now, but what else is there to think of? How soft she is, how cool the faintest touch of her skin is against his own, how even now she can't seem to stop twisting her hands together and how the occasional brush of her thumb against his back makes him wish there wasn't a bed so close by? "You let your guard down." Vergil says suddenly. Elsa makes another, faintly inquisitive, 'mmm' sound and his grip on her tightens unconsciously. "Would you say this was a bad thing?" he asks.

She pulls away for a moment and smiles at him. "Not at all. Do you think we should we do it again?" she asks.

"Perhaps not. We wouldn't want the magic to die out so soon." he says.

Her smile broadens. "There's one thing I hold true above everything else." she murmurs.

"Something beside Anna?" he asks, even though that should be obvious now.

She leans forward to murmur in his ear, "Magic never dies." There is a strange tingling behind his back. When she returns, there's a frozen sculpture of a flower in her hand and her fingertips have a trace of mist about them. She presents it to him majestically.

"Tradition often says that it's the man who presents the woman with a flower, not the other way round." he says. He accepts it with a bow. "But I've always enjoyed breaking with tradition."

Elsa smiles even more broadly and he wishes he was brave enough to try and touch her again. Just as he thinks to do so, she crosses to the door and turns to look at him. "Until tomorrow." she says.

"You mean today." he says with a smile of his own. He follows her to the door. "Don't I get to stay the night?" he asks in as husky a voice as he can manage.

"It would be...VERY...awkward...if someone were to find you here." she says with another blush. Vergil manages to keep his hand from trembling as he holds it out. They shake, and smile, and bid each other good night (not good morning) and sleep very soundly until well after dawn.


	7. An Idea Is Born

_It's a matter of style, flair,_  
_Je ne sais quoi._  
_Bravura, so to speak._  
_You gotta come out with that smile, that air,_  
_That qu'est-ce que c'est ca._  
_As I told Karen Horney,_  
_The day I was born I_  
_Was chic._ – Style, written by Stephen Schwartz and performed by David Ogden Stiers

* * *

Later that day, he waits outside her room for what seems like hours. He doesn't dare knock. The first minute is the worst, then the second, then the third, then the fourth...

Finally he's had enough. With an abrupt turn on his heel that would have made his old coat swirl dramatically through the air (he still finds himself missing it and the gravitas it provided him, instead of the meek and mild-mannered clothes he wears now), he storms off to the stairs. _She's a queen,_ he tells himself angrily. _She doesn't have time to lounge around in bed all day like you do._

Vergil stops for a moment at the foot of the stairs to regather his bearings and his poise. He wonders if he should go straight to the throne room like he did the other day. He doesn't want to seem too eager though, and surely she has other things to deal with besides him...

* * *

"Elsa's busy."

His desire to see Elsa again having narrowly won out over the other competing urges, Vergil lowers his upraised fist and glowers at the redhead, who returns the glower from her position against the wall, with her arms crossed in front of her. "When will she be _not_ busy?" he asks.

"When I say she isn't." Anna says smugly. Vergil's glower intensifies. She pushes herself away from the wall and stands in front of him, arms still folded, then she sighs. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk-"

"-but you just happen to be naturally talented in that area." Vergil interrupts. She's about to stick her tongue out at him before she remembers that she's supposed to be a princess and settles for a quick roll of her brilliantly green eyes.

"I just don't want anyone hurting her. And you already did, so..." She shrugs expressively.

He winces at the reminder. _If that's how she wants to play, then so be it, he thinks. _He forces himself to relax. "Your concern is touching." he says with an unusual lack of sarcasm. "I am sorry I hurt her. I will do what I can to make up for it."

Anna looks at him dubiously. He doesn't blame her. At last, she uncrosses her arms. "Aw what the heck. Live and learn, right?" She smiles. "Maybe the trolls were wrong; maybe people _can_ change."

Vergil smiles back tentatively, then realizes what he just heard. "Trolls?" he asks. But Anna has already knocked on the door, so that'll have to wait.

* * *

Anna goes from guard to servant to courtier all the way up to Kai, and in just a few minutes, Elsa herself peers around the door. "If you've come to ask me for another snowman..." she begins teasingly before she sees Vergil standing off to her right. They nod at each other while Anna watches, an uncharacteristic and yet almost imperceptibly sly smile on her face. "Vergil wanted to know if you were up for a walk." she says.

"Did I?" Vergil asks in surprise.

"Don't you?" Anna asks.

For a moment, he's about to answer, then abruptly he changes the subject. "I never told you my name." he says, remembering what they did and did not say to each other the last time they met.

"Elsa did." Anna says gleefully. "She tells me _every_thing."

Vergil turns to Elsa. "You do?" he asks.

Elsa chuckles. "She's my sister; of course I do!" she replies.

"You didn't tell her-" he begins, but stops even before the faint look of frantic warning darts across Elsa's face.

"Didn't tell me what?" Anna asks with another quick glance between them.

"It's nothing." Vergil says, hoping to cut her off. "Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness. Should I return later?"

"Elsa, please." she says. "You don't have to go; I was just about to-"

"There's no need to hurry on my account. Take your time...Elsa." She smiles at him, causing him to sigh inwardly (but only out of frustration at the way it makes his heart flutter) and waves her long beautiful fingers apologetically before she pulls the door closed. Anna turns to him, grinning mercilessly. "'Elsa', huh? Since when were you on first name terms with Her Royal Highness My Sister?" she asks.

"Doesn't she tell you everything? Ask her yourself." Vergil says, moving past her on his way outside.

"Like I said, she's busy." She scurries in front of him and leans in close. "And when I say everything, I mean EVERYthing." Her eyes widen suggestively. Vergil says nothing, but brushes her aside and walks off down the hall. Anna glares after him, and it is precisely then that she remembers the legends tell of _two_ sons of Sparda.

She has a letter to write!


	8. At Long Last, Love

_When this old world starts getting me down,_

_And people are just too much for me to face..._

_I climb way up to the top of the stairs_

_And all my cares just drift right into space..._

_On the roof, it's peaceful as can be_

_And there the world below can't bother me. –_ Up On The Roof, originally by The Drifters, though the version I had in mind was by Rockapella

* * *

He waits for her in the courtyard. It had not originally been his intention to skulk behind the doors of the castle, thrown open wide to the world; but skulk he does, in the dark and out of the way. It soon transpires however that darkness is relative: somehow it is the first place she looks after a brief and fruitless search of the courtyard. "Were you hiding back here?" Elsa asks with a smile that manages to be confused and worried and breathtaking all at the same time.

Vergil straightens self-consciously. "Not hiding; waiting." he tells her, lying to himself and to her (it's easier that way).

She doesn't buy it. "It looked as if you didn't want anyone to see you." she says.

"That's not entirely true." Vergil admits, looking at her in such a way as to make sure his point comes across very very clearly, which it does. Elsa blushes softly. He had no idea how much he'd missed that.

After a brief but by no means unpleasant pause, he asks, "So. Where shall we go?"

She clears her throat but can't keep the lingering smile off her face as she says, "You're the guest of honor. You decide."

"But you're the queen." he replies.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"If anyone knows the best places to go, it would be you."

"What did you have in mind?" she asks, still smiling.

He didn't really have anything in mind, so he has to think about it. "Somewhere quiet would be nice." he says at last. "Somewhere we could sit and talk...or just stare off into the distance if you prefer."

Elsa hardly has to think at all. "I know _just_ the place." She gestures for him to follow her, and without thinking he does.

* * *

"Ladies first." Vergil says as they come to the foot of the tower.

Elsa shakes her head slightly. "We went down the stairs together." she says, hearkening back to their outing of the previous day. "How about we stick _with_ tradition, just this once?"

"Is it really a tradition if we've only done it once?" he asks. She shrugs. He eyes the stairs carefully. "Seems a bit narrow for two people."

She sighs. "Fine. I'll go first..." He feels slightly foolish for being so obstinate about such a trivial matter, but as she mounts the first few steps, she turns back to him with another smile. "...but only if you keep your eyes where they belong."

"As you wish." he replies, trying not to picture where she thinks his eyes might have gone, and prepares to follow her.

* * *

It's almost dusk by the time they reach the top. Elsa watches Vergil's face closely as he takes in the view. "It's beautiful." he says, and it is. Her dress sparkles as she smiles in delight, the last light of the dying sun setting off a rainbow about her shoulders. He can't hold back much longer. "Your Highness," he begins, falling back on old habits out of stress. "I'm not entirely sure how to say this..."

"Then don't." she says, not harshly, but gently, like she _knows_. She steps just a little bit closer to him. She does that thing with her hands again. He can't take it any more, so he gives in and he kisses her. Softly at first; just a careful touch of his lips to hers. Then, as he's about to pull away, belatedly realizing the size of the hole he's dug for himself, she puts a hand at the back of his neck and draws him back in. They're both new to this, both unsure what exactly they're supposed to be doing but doing it anyway, pressing their lips together again and again in a hundred new ways, a hundred new angles, each one more exciting than the last. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close, drinking in the indescribable way that she tastes, that perfect little mix of one thing and another that just screams _Elsa_. Just for a moment, the dueling storms of fear and anger die away, so that all there is in the whole of the world is them, alone and together as one, from the meeting of their lips to the way their hands feel blindly for each other before meeting in the middle.

Vergil is the first to break away, but he doesn't go far. He stays just a kiss away from her, hardly wanting to breathe, losing himself in her wide wondering eyes. Elsa puts a hand to his cheek and just holds it there, smiling even as she trembles in the aftershock. She doesn't have to tell him to follow her this time; he doesn't think he could do anything else even if he tried. They stumble down the stairs and back through the castle, their eyes resolutely fixed on the path ahead. They have just enough presence of mind left to look cautiously up and down the hall before they enter her bedroom.

The bed is only barely big enough, but they manage.


	9. Solace

_When an irresistible force such as you  
Meets an old immovable object like me,  
You can bet just as sure as you live..._

_Something's gotta give.  
Something's gotta give.  
Something's gotta give. _– Something's Gotta Give by Frank Sinatra

* * *

For the longest time, neither of them manage to get any sleep. They're too thrilled by the nearness of their bodies, though they manage to refrain from any 'hanky-panky' as Anna would call it. Elsa thinks to herself that the move to her chambers was more out of a need for privacy than any sense of fatigue. _How could anyone get tired of this? Just being here, just _looking_ at him..._

They kiss of course, many many times, each so delicate and tender they almost want to scream. But they take it slow, just as they've always done, and it's only when Vergil slides a tentative hand along her hip that Elsa thinks to ask, "What am I doing?"

He pulls away to look her in the eye. "I don't believe there's a word for this." he says dryly.

"I mean what am I doing with _you_? I don't even know you. And I went off on Anna for wanting to marry someone she just met. WE just met. I...I'm following in her footsteps..." Panic starts to set in, and Vergil doesn't know what to do. A hug or a kiss would hardly suffice given what she just said. The bed turns cold beneath him. "Perhaps we both need time to consider this." he says heavily and starts to get up.

Elsa shuts her eyes desperately, then, as he crosses the room and reaches for the handle on the door, whispers "Wait!" She turns to face him as he does the same. "You don't have to go." she says, sitting upright, still looking worried. "Whatever happens, happens. Just for tonight, let's forget all the other things we have to do and just be who we are."

Vergil looks at the floor, which is slick with ice. "I don't know who I am yet," he says. "But I do know this." Elsa watches his approach with baited breath. He leans in until they are eye to eye again. "I love you. Some day I may come to terms with what that means. But for now..." He smiles faintly. "Let's forget all of that." Elsa smiles gratefully at him and pulls him into another kiss. Between one thing and another, it is quite some time before he's able to get back under the sheets with her.

They pass the night in endless love, hardly saying a word. When their lips are sore and swollen (the sight of which prompts one last teasing kiss from their partner), they nestle in each other's arms, but even that does not send them to sleep; their bodies are too on fire with all these strange new feelings and sensations. Their eyes close, it's true, but they close to better savor the moment, the distant feel of their lover's heart beating along with their own. There will be time for harsh words, for doubt, and for self-recrimination later. Tonight belongs to them.

* * *

When morning arrives, Vergil dimly registers a knock on the door. Somewhat less dimly, he registers Elsa's hastily shouted response. But he is keenly aware of her lips brushing against his cheek as she murmurs, "Now what am I going to do with you?"

He struggles to open his eyes, but finds himself very happy when he does. Gazing into her spectacularly blue eyes will do that to a man. "I can think of a few things..." he mumbles.

She swats him with a pillow. "Behave!" she scolds him playfully.

"I AM behaving." he says. "Or else I'd do this!" He springs to life and wrestles her back down onto the bed, reveling in the way she squeals with delight as he burrows into the crook of her neck, repaying a favor from the other night. Turnabout is fair play.

He stops abruptly when someone knocks on the door again. "Is everything all right Your Majesty?"

Elsa takes a moment to make sure her voice sounds normal before she replies. "Yes Kai. I'm...I'm fine." She reaches for the pillow and hits Vergil over the head again. "Stop it!" she whispers half-heartedly. "I have a kingdom to tend to!"

"They don't need you like I do." he growls. She stops mid-swing. "Elsa?" He sits up to look at her. She looks _scared_. "What is it?" he asks, even though he already knows.

"You should go." she whispers as she turns away.

"I didn't mean-"

"Go." Her voice brooks no argument. He gets to his feet without another word and storms out, not sure who he's really angry with. Her own anger fades with the closing of the door.

And she cries.


	10. Wild Endeavor Against Fate

_We all fight our own fight.  
Will you fuel the desire to win? _

_Always struggling with the truth,  
Of the life that might have been..._

_But no matter how jagged your path is,  
You'll always come back to the road. _\- The War Still Rages Within by Maniac Agenda

* * *

A hush has fallen over the castle of Arendelle. The bustle of everyday life within its walls seems strangely muffled, as if the inhabitants know what has transpired. They certainly know that something is amiss, for Anna scarcely leaves her sister's side, even moreso than usual. Some of the servants even attest to having seen Elsa wearing gloves earlier in the day. Whatever the case, she certainly isn't wearing them now.

"It was just a joke," she whispers to Anna. "I don't know why I got so worked up about it."

Anna rubs Elsa's shoulder comfortingly. "It's okay to get worked up over things you've never done before." she assures her. "We're both new at this. Although I gotta say, Kristoff is less of a demon, more of a 'dances-with-reindeer' kind of guy..."

Elsa looks up, momentarily distracted from her grief by her sister's unusual string of words. "What...?"

"He doesn't really." Anna says. "He just talks to him." She glances around in exaggerated caution. "Between you and me, I'm starting to think Sven actually DOES talk."

The not-so-little not-so-white lie works, and Elsa almost laughs, prompting Anna to laugh as well. The merriment lingers for a while, until Anna's curiosity gets the better of her. "So what...happened?" she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Elsa blushes furiously as she recounts the tale. "I was trying to get him out of bed, but he pulled me down and started..."

Anna's eyes are as big as saucers. "Gooo Elsa!" she cheers in awe.

"It wasn't like that." Elsa says, blushing even more. "It was just kissing; lots and lots of kissing."

"Isn't it the BEST?" Anna asks. Elsa buries her face in her hands, but nods in agreement.

"I tried to get away by saying I had things I needed to do, and he said the kingdom didn't need me as much as he did..." she mumbles through her hands.

There are some things sisters that have only recently become friends again simply do not ask each other. Anna comes remarkably close to asking one of them and clenches her fists tightly to dissuade herself. "What happened next?" she squeaks through clenched teeth.

Elsa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I told him to leave." she says.

Anna opens one eye. "You did what?" she asks

"Anna..." Elsa sighs. "Just because I'm twenty-one doesn't mean I've done this sort of thing before."

"You're twenty-one and a QUEEN." Anna reminds her with a nudge.

"Don't remind me." Elsa grumbles. "I just...it was going too fast. I only met him a week ago and he's already in bed with me..?"

Anna makes a note to tell her new friend about the son of Sparda's latest doings when he arrives. "So now what?" she asks. Neither one of them seems to have an answer. "Are you just going to sit here and hope he makes a move?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Elsa stands up. "I'm going to do my job." Despite the seriousness of her tone, she makes sure to give her sister a firm hug. "Thank you Anna." she whispers.

"I didn't really DO anything, but you're welcome." Anna replies, returning the hug fiercely.

Elsa pulls back and gazes at Anna from an arms-length away. "Don't worry about Vergil." she tells her. "I'll figure something out."

"Okay..."

"Promise?" Elsa asks knowingly.

Anna sighs. "I promise I'm not going to worry about your stupid old boyfriend." She doesn't cross her fingers behind her back this time. _Why would I? _she thinks to herself. _I already know exactly what I'm going to do..._

* * *

Vergil slams the door in Anna's face. She frowns thoughtfully at it for a few moments, then sticks her tongue out, whirls on her heel and rushes down the stairs. Kristoff is more or less where she left him, and she doesn't even think of resisting the temptation to sneak up behind him and fling her arms around his midriff. The helmet he had been holding above him while he inspected the interior of the suit of armor it belonged to comes crashing down onto his head, and they spend a few frantic moments trying to get it off before someone notices. When they succeed in replacing it (Kristoff wisely deciding to forgo the possibility of additional misadventures by taking the helmet from Anna and putting it back atop the chestplate by himself), he sighs in relief before he turns to her and says, "No luck?"

"Nope." she replies with a sigh of her own. "On to plan B."

"What's plan B?" he asks.

"I was kinda hoping you knew." she admits sheepishly.

* * *

Plan B didn't work. Neither did plans C, D or E (even childlike pouting didn't seem to change E for Elsa's mind). So they decide to roam the castle as sneakily as they know how to, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Somehow, despite Anna's unceasing unwitting efforts to trip over everything in sight ("It's not easy watching your feet when you're busy watching someone else's!" she sighs at one point), they've managed to remain undetected by their quarry. Vergil stalks through the halls seemingly at random, while Elsa glides elegantly from the council chamber to the great hall and wherever else her queenly duties might take her. She looks well enough, better than well truth be told, but Anna swears repeatedly that her sister is fit to burst, though she's less emphatic about whether it might be from anger or sadness.

Finally, as the sun is beginning to set, the time has come. Anna nearly runs headlong into Kristoff in her excitement. "Elsa's headed for the library!" she squeals.

"I know! Vergil's coming the other way! But...how are we going to get them in the same room together?" he asks.

Luckily for everyone, Anna's thought ahead this time. "Easy! We push 'em in and lock the door!" (Exactly how much thought she's given it is a matter of debate.)

"We don't have the key..." he reminds her.

This brings her up short for three whole seconds. "I'll go look for it!" Without a backwards glance, she hurries off, talking to herself as she goes. "It shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean why would you put a key so far away from the room it opens?"

"Anna!" Kristoff hisses at her. She skids to a halt on a rug, and turns to glare at him. He beckons her over urgently and she musses up the rug even more as she hurries back to join him. "They're almost here!" he whispers. Sure enough, they're closing in fast; Vergil coming from the north of the castle, Elsa from the south. "What do we do now?"

Once more unto the breach. Anna puffs herself up ferociously. "We do what we have to. Now let's move out!"

* * *

Elsa and Vergil round their respective corners, too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice each other for the moment. Out of nowhere, Anna and Kristoff swoop in and accost the two feuding lovebirds.

"Anna! What are you-" Elsa starts to say.

"You'll thank me later!" Anna chirps, bustling her sister into the library. Vergil says nothing, just glares daggers at Kristoff, who at least has the good grace to look somewhat apologetic about the situation.

The whole thing is over in less than five seconds. Anna scurries back into the hall and shuts the door firmly before leaning against it and wiping her brow. A tad prematurely, as it turns out.

"Uh, Anna?" Kristoff says. "It opens the other-"

Anna has just enough time to ask "What?" before toppling backwards as the door opens from the inside. "Whoaaaaa!"

"-way." he finishes, and winces.

* * *

"Anna! Are you all right?" The redhead opens her eyes to discover that she's landed safely in the arms of her sister, who intercepted her on her way to the floor.

"I'm fine." she mutters. "Just a bruised ego." Vergil glowers at her over Elsa's shoulder and she narrows her eyes at him in return.

"What is this about?" Elsa asks, a bewildered frown upon her face.

"She got tired of the two of you fighting, and she thought the best thing to do was to lock you in a room until you kissed and made up." Kristoff explains.

"Obviously." Vergil drawls.

Elsa looks down at her sister, who's struggling to stand up. "Oh Anna..." She helps her sister to her feet and hugs her tight. "I told you I was going to think of something." she says into Anna's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, you took too long." Anna replies into Elsa's shoulder. She lets go, and grins broadly. "So are you gonna do it?" she asks.

Elsa turns pink. "What?"

"Make up." Anna says, a little too innocently. "What did you think I meant?"

Elsa stammers out a reply. "Nothing; I-I was just..." She stops as she catches sight of Anna's ever-widening grin. "What is it?" (Anna can hardly contain herself.) "Why are you smiling?" Elsa seems to shrink into herself, and at the first sign of her distress, Vergil and Anna rush to her aid. Anna is closer though. Anna will always be closer. He's not sure which of the sisters he's more jealous of: Anna for being so loving, or Elsa for being so loved. Elsa rushes into Anna's arms, and the younger sister murmurs soothingly to the older one, "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm just teasing. It's what sisters do, right?" The implicit declaration of love is enough to bring tears to Elsa's eyes, and Kristoff's too. Vergil meanwhile feigns disinterest. Badly.

Elsa finally pulls away with a grateful smile. "Thank you Anna. For _every_thing." she whispers.

"You're welcome. You're ALWAYS welcome." Anna says, fighting back tears of her own. Elsa gives her one last affectionate touch on the cheek before she steps back into the library and closes the door gently. Not a word is spoken.


	11. Solitude

_Begin again in the night.  
Let's sway again tonight,  
Your arm on my shoulder,  
Your cheek against mine.  
Where can we go?  
When will we find that we know...?_

_Where can we go?  
When will we find that we know  
To let go...?  
Begin, begin again tonight... _\- Begin Again, written by Chris Avellone and Mikey Dowling

* * *

The silence lingers inside the room, though the atmosphere does it no favors. They look briefly at each other, look away, to the same place: the couch to their right; then to the chairs further apart by the fireplace, for the couch feels somehow too intimate. "Should we sit down?" Elsa asks.

"Ladies first." Vergil says for the second time in as many days. He hadn't intended to be polite, but nevertheless he waits until she's seated in the chair closest to her before taking his seat opposite her.

"Thank you for coming." she says shyly.

"I didn't have much of a choice." he replies, his usual dry sneer uncomfortably evident.

"I suppose not..." she admits. Suddenly he realizes he's come to the crossroads. The choice he's been running from his whole life must be made, and it must be made now. He can return to the life he led before, or he can change. He can go back to seeking power no matter the cost, or he could try it Dante's way once more.

His insides knot. His hands clench. _Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies in their stomach? Is this what it would be like to be her? _She looks so delicate, like the ice she commands. How does she stand it? How does she stand him? The nights they've spent together should have been a warning sign, the argument they'd had to be the first of many. He wants to ask, but for the first time in his life he's afraid to be right.

She's looking at him. Staring. Watching. Judging. She knows what he's done, what he tried to do. The humans must have told stories about it. His brother couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, and the woman... He doesn't know anything about her. He doesn't know anything about Elsa either, come to think of it. What secrets does she keep; what unspoken tragedies dog her every footstep?

Elsa worries. It's what she does. She worries about her kingdom, she worries about her sister, she worries about her children, Olaf and the one she left behind, and she can't help it, she worries about her powers too, what a sudden shock could make her do to everything that she has left to love. Vergil won't stay. She sees it in his eyes. He's sick of her, sick of her worrying, of her desperate need to be loved. Why can't she be happy? She thought she'd known what happiness felt like: when she let her hair down on the mountain, when against all hope her sister came back for her, because she loved her. Why can't that be enough? But that all changed when she kissed him. She just wants to feel the way she felt when he brought his face close to hers and whispered that he loved her. The thrill down her spine, the wonder, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms and he in hers...

"I'm sorry." Vergil says, and it's over. She can feel her heart begin to break. She's cold now, so cold, just like Anna before she died. She wishes she could die. She hopes that she'll be able to let go and _die_ like she's always wanted when he walks out that door. There probably wouldn't be anything left in the morning, just a little puddle where she turned into ice and disappeared. They'd have to bury an empty coffin, like they did when her mother and father died. _Can I see them? Just one more time? _All this tumbles wildly through her mind before he continues. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I...forced myself on you."

"No! No you didn't!" Elsa says frantically. "It was nice; it-it felt _good_! I didn't know what you were thinking, that's all. And it scared me."

"I'm sorry." Vergil says heavily.

"No! No you don't have to be sorry!" she says desperately. "I'm the one who should be sorry! I shouldn't have made you go; I shouldn't have tried to...push you away, like I push everyone away!" She folds in on herself, clutching at her arms, unable to look at him. He _should_ go. It's what she deserves. The cold is starting to spread...

He never knows what to do with her, least of all when she's so distraught. He leaves his seat and crouches beside her. She's curled up into a ball now, snuggling reflexively into the back of the chair. Snow is billowing all around them now; the fire starts to dim. He puts a hand on her shoulder and she sniffs quietly and it hurts. He can't even speak. He can't even say her damn name, so he climbs into the chair beside her. He wraps himself around her. He can feel her crying silently, can feel the way she's shaking, and it _hurts_.

He wishes she would just turn around and cry to him instead of the empty room, which is thick with the sudden snow. He doesn't know how she'd manage it with the chair so small, but he wishes she would _try_. He wishes he could make it all go away. He wishes he was strong enough to take away all this pain, but he can't even talk. All he can do is hold her, hold her close; not close enough, but close. Elsa sniffs again, and his heart breaks like hers. "Why are you doing this?" she whimpers.

"Because." She turns to face him, somehow. "Because I love you." And there's nothing else he can say.

They snuggle, if you can call it snuggling. They...rest together, their bodies entwined in a complicated tangle they're not sure if they'll be able to figure out. They suppose they could move to the couch, but that would mean leaving the safety of this moment that they have, so they don't. After a while, Elsa struggles upright and climbs into his lap, resting her head and her hand on his chest. Vergil still doesn't know what to do, so he just keeps holding her. He could spend the rest of his life holding her, and in some ways he will. But she'll hold him back, because turnabout is fair play.

Elsa looks up at him. "I love you." she whispers. In response, he kisses her. She kisses him back, her hand drifting up to rest against his jaw and cheek. They both taste like tears, for their tears are mingling together and falling lovingly to the floor, where the snow has already begun to melt. She sighs into his lips and makes him shiver.

The door opens for a moment. Anna pokes her head in and her face lights up when she sees the two of them in the chair. She opens her mouth to cheer them on when Kristoff taps her on the shoulder and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. She opens her mouth again to argue with him, but he grabs her gently but firmly by the wrist and drags her out the door. Neither Elsa nor Vergil notice this, nor do they notice when the door closes a little more loudly than it opened. They don't notice the faint sounds of an argument in the halls, sounds that grow fainter by the second, until right at the end they're cut off entirely when their owners decide to put their efforts to better use. They've come to like arguing, or at least what invariably comes after.

Vergil breaks the kiss. "My neck is killing me." he says apologetically.

"Mine is too." Elsa says with a smile. "What should we do now?" she asks.

"Hmm..." He scratches his head thoughtfully like his brother does. "What about a dance?"

"I don't dance." she says regretfully.

"Neither do I." he says.

"I mean, I don't know _how_ to dance."

"Neither do I." he says again. She laughs. "Shall we?" She nods eagerly and together they find their feet.

"What kind of dance?" Elsa asks as they walk hand-in-hand to an open corner of the room.

"Whatever comes to mind." he says.

"I don't know any dances." she reminds him.

"Just do what comes naturally." he tells her.

"Like this?" she asks, holding out her arms uncomfortably.

"No," he says quietly. He puts an arm across her shoulder. She does the same. He holds her close. She does the same. "Like this."

And they dance.


	12. Nothing Matters

_You've never looked more beautiful;_

_Your eyes like two full moons... _\- Nothing Matters When We're Dancing, originally by The Magnetic Fields, although yet again I had a different version in mind: the indescribably haunting cover version by The Antlers

* * *

They drift around the floor as one. In their minds, the dusty old library has been transformed into the great hall below. All eyes are on them, but they don't care; they keep on dancing.

For a moment, Vergil's compulsion to wonder about the future breaks through the trance of their unknowingly shared vision. "Will you marry me?" he asks abruptly.

Elsa doesn't stop to think. "No." she says. "Not yet."

For some reason, this comforts him. "Good." He feels the need to justify himself. "I was wondering if it was...proper for the queen to date someone. Is that what we are? Dating?" He feels like a child again.

Her response is to hold him closer and whisper "sshhhh" in a gentle soothing voice. He forces himself to relax into her and enjoy the moment for what it is. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." he decides aloud.

Elsa pulls away for a moment. "I never thought I'd have to say this," she begins, smiling fondly. "But you talk too much." As if to ease whatever sting she worries her words might carry, she leans back in and brushes her lips against his, just long enough to linger but not quite long enough for him to fully appreciate the way she feels (and in turn, the way she makes him feel). When the kiss ends, he says to her with a smirk, "I'm taller than you."

"No you're not." she says.

"Yes I am. You're wearing heels."

"And I'm still taller."

"Prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything." Elsa says.

"Are you afraid of being wrong?"

"No...I-"

"Then take them off." Vergil lets his hand creep teasingly down her leg. "Or should I do it for you?"

Elsa slaps his hand away. "Behave." she tells him for the second (but by no means last) time, holding a warning finger under his nose. Reluctantly, he returns his hand to its full upright position around her midriff. "The Queen of Arendelle does not remove her shoes for just anyone." she says with mock dignity.

"I'm hardly just 'anyone'." he informs her. "Legend has it my father ruled the human world for many years until he disappeared. So in many ways we're equal."

Elsa is about to say something when she discovers that she can't take it any more and bursts out laughing. Soon, he does as well. They laugh for minutes on end, practically giddy over something so small as to make it all the more hilarious. When they finally calm down, their hearts are full to bursting with love, so they release it the only way they know how: with a kiss. Elsa wraps her arms around his neck almost automatically, drawing him closer (as if he'd want to be anywhere else). He returns the kiss just as passionately, his hands itching to go places they really probably shouldn't. He settles for placing them on her hips, not too high, not too low, just right... God, he loves her. He's not even sure he can tell her how much he loves her, loves the way she tastes, loves the way she smells, the way she looks, the way she talks, acts, feels... She does that thing with her mouth again, where she sighs dreamily as she moves her head just enough to make everything feel like it's brand new again as she moves in for another go. Vergil surprises himself and her by breaking away. He's _shaking_. "I'm sorry." he says, unable to look at her. "I..." He shakes his head. "I don't deserve you."

Elsa puts a finger to his lips. "Enough." she says, softly but firmly.

Vergil nods in agreement. "I love you." he says.

"I know." she whispers. "I love you too." They stand there, as if frozen to the spot. It's enough just to _be_ right now, to stand so close that he can see one beautiful wisp of hair trying to work its way free of her perfectly combed braid. Elsa blinks, once, twice, and the long moment is finally over. "I guess we should get some sleep." she says.

"What time is it?" Vergil asks, searching the room in vain for a clock.

"I don't know. It _feels_ late though." she says.

"Perhaps you're right." he says. Then, remembering what happened last time, he asks carefully, "Should I go back to my room?"

Elsa frowns a little, her gaze drifting off to the side as she tries to make up her mind. "No," she says at last. "You can sleep...with me if you like. Just..." She makes a vague gesture of some sort which he's unable to decipher. Luckily, he's fairly certain he understands what she's trying to say.

"No 'funny business'." he agrees. She smiles in relief and they walk almost shyly to the door, scarcely touching or looking at one another. "What should we do?" Vergil asks, which she takes to mean 'how should we behave in public?'

"Be...polite." she suggests. "Restrained. Dignified."

He thinks he already is (though he won't be for long), but once again she manages to get her point across, and the meaning sinks in a little while later. "I see what you mean." he says. She's reaching for the door handle when he says "You don't want me to do this-" and kisses her fiercely. Elsa is surprised but also pleased. _Very_ pleased. She doesn't raise her arms or do anything really, she just stands there and kisses him right back. They break apart several seconds later, flushed and breathing heavily. "-in public." he finishes. She nods breathlessly. "All right." he says. "I believe I can handle that." Quickly, they tend to their appearances; straightening clothes, hair, and faces before nodding reassuringly to one another and opening the door.

There's no one there.

* * *

Elsa stifles her giggles behind her hand as they hurry to her chambers. In an attempt to further muffle the noise they're making, Vergil scoops her up in his arms and dashes along the corridor; an attempt which fails almost immediately when she lets out a yelp of surprise. He bites back the urge to try again by kissing her, and is spared from having to ask for directions by Elsa tugging at his sleeve and saying "It's this one." With an inward sigh of relief, he sets her down and does his best to restore his dignity by opening the door for her. She smiles at him gratefully and steps inside.

In the dark, it is suddenly much harder to imagine going to bed with her and NOT engaging in some 'funny business', but Vergil is resolved to be a man of his word. He waits by the side of the bed, wondering why she's just standing there looking terrified. The truth will come out though; sooner or later it always does. He restrains himself to a quick peck on the cheek before they settle in for the night.

Fate however has other ideas, and he is awakened by the sound of someone trying to cry. As he struggles to his senses, he can feel Elsa shaking beside him. He rolls over. "Elsa?" he asks, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turns, unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and manages to throw herself sideways at him, burying her face in his chest. A flurry of snowflakes whirl around the bed. "What's wrong?" Vergil asks into her hair, not really in a position to pose the question to her more directly. At first, she's unable to respond through her strained sobs and hiccups of grief, but over the course of the next hour, the story comes out...

* * *

"_I'll take good care of Arendelle, your majesty." he assures her, raising his sword above his head._

"_And Anna...?" she whispers._

_He falters. "Anna? She's dead, remember? You _killed_ her."_

"_I killed her..." She stares blankly at the ice beneath her, wishing with all her might that she could die as well. Mercifully, she does._

* * *

When Elsa finishes her story, telling both the dream and the truth, Vergil's hands are clenched tighter than he can ever remember clenching them before. "That could have been me once." he remarks with effort. She looks up at him in confusion. "There was a time I would have done anything for power, even hurting innocents. But somehow...it never came to that. Maybe I was lucky. Maybe the good in my father was passed down to both of us, and I would have been able to stop myself." He looks down at her and hugs her tight. "But that is behind me now, because of you." he murmurs. Elsa hugs him back, though not without some trepidation.

"Let's get some sleep," she suggests. "It sounds as if we have a lot to talk about tomorrow."

Vergil considers this. "Indeed we do." He stops her as she starts to wriggle free, leaning in to kiss her gently. Despite her newfound doubt, she still loves him, and returns the kiss with vigor, resting a hand against the side of his face. Even when locked in a passionate embrace, she feels compelled to do something with her hands. "Thank you Elsa." he whispers when they are done. She smiles beautifully before rolling over to her side of the bed. Her dreams after that are peaceful and untroubled, but his are filled with fear and doubt, and above all, the spectre of the black angel.


	13. Ice Slowly Melts

_Here comes the sun.  
Here comes the sun, and I say...  
It's all right. _\- Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles

* * *

Something tickles his cheek. He moves to brush it away, but stops when she presses her lips to his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he whispers "Hey."

"Hey." she replies. He can tell by the sound of her voice that she's smiling. "I have to go." she whispers. "I've got a lot of work today."

"Mmm." he mumbles in agreement. But as she's moving away, he forces himself out of bed and to his feet. His eyes open just for a moment, long enough to let him grab her by the hand and pull her to him in one smooth motion. Their lips meet. Their eyes close. And, in an unusual but by no means unpleasant turn of events, it is _his_ hand that snakes around the back of _her_ head this time. He breaks away a few short seconds later, intending to let her go, but when he sees her, lips still faintly pursed, eyes still tightly shut, he goes back in for another one, longer this time. Much longer. In the early hours of the morning, their resolve is somewhat lessened, so their hands are free to wander, as indeed they do. At one point, Elsa makes a muffled squeaking noise and Vergil's insides knot and unknot pleasurably. He pulls her even closer, savoring the lingering scent of soap and water that speaks of a queen fresh from the bath, and his thoughts become decidedly unchaste. Quickly, he tears himself away, barely missing the blush upon her face or the way she's begun to tremble. There's a moment of awkward but paradoxically enjoyable silence while Elsa attempts to remember how to breathe. Vergil stares at the wall, trying desperately not to wonder how things might have gone if he'd woken up a few minutes earlier.

At length, Elsa clears her throat. "I should...I should go." she says. Vergil nods. She turns to leave, then thinks better of it and steps forward to kiss Vergil on the cheek. "Be good today." she whispers.

"Be good to who?" he asks.

"Everyone." she murmurs. She hugs him lovingly. "Even you." She knows him so well.

But the usual doubt begins to surge within him as she makes for the door. "Elsa." he calls suddenly. She turns in the doorway. He hurries to her side and, in the bright morning light of the hall, not caring or hoping that anyone might see them, he kisses her again; softer and more gently than the last one, cupping her beautiful face in his hands. "Better safe than sorry." he says once the kiss is done. She smiles at him and at last, they part ways, if only for a while.

* * *

The stranger ducks back behind the wall as Vergil watches Elsa go. It's his turn to smile now, as he relives their long and complicated history together. Then, he takes off down the hall in search of his fellow conspirators. _Looks like we might have to take things up a notch._

* * *

The day is agony without her. At first, Vergil considers thanking the redheaded whirlwind and the tall unlikely blonde for their efforts, but they're nowhere to be found. Storming through the castle holds little appeal now. He would go in search of Elsa again, but he doesn't want to seem too needy. Then he remembers the garden. He relocates it with ease, and the memories of his last visit help to soothe him as he prepares to meditate.

Soon he is adrift in the darkness of his mind, looking for answers to questions he dares not think aloud. He asks if this has made him happy. He asks if this has made him whole. And in the silence, he asks if any of it is true; the things he's said, the things he's done. Is it all just another game? One that runs so deep even he believes it until the end? _Everything has to end..._

The questions hover just out of range, the way he's trained them to so as not to break the spell. He wonders idly what he should do now, what time it is. But time has no meaning in here. It could just as easily have been three seconds instead of three hours. It is only when he feels a change in the air that he thinks of surfacing. The breeze has shifted, bringing with it the sense of someone other, and with that sense comes a smell: the scent of vanilla, so soft as to almost pass without notice amidst the flowers and the grass, but he notices. He notices, but he waits to see what she will do. A hand comes to rest upon his shoulder: cold, fragile, delicate. _It would be so easy to break her,_ something says in the moment before he rises up from the darkness to greet her.

His heart is pounding as he opens his eyes. He lifts his head and sees Elsa's face above him. Her hesitant smile widens. "Hi." she says quietly. Suddenly he's forgotten how to smile back with that damnable thought coursing through his head. "Hi." Vergil says, getting stiffly to his feet.

"Is something wrong?" she asks. Torn between the desire to tell the truth and the urge to protect her like he protects all the things he loves, he says nothing. "Hey." She lays a hand against his face, turning it to her. "Look at me." He closes his eyes, pretending it's to better enjoy the feel of her skin once again. "Talk to me." she urges him.

"It's nothing." he tells her. Another lie.

Elsa says nothing, just tilts her head to the side and lets a little bit of sorrow into her smile. Then she pulls him in for a hug. Before, they had been equal in all things, but now she is the one in control, like she's always wanted, and it scares her. She doesn't know why, but it scares her. To see this man, this demon, the son of the Legendary Dark Knight looking so broken and lost... What happened to him? Why does she feel like he's afraid of himself, just as she's afraid of _her_self? She can feel him struggling not to cling to her. She doesn't mind; it's just what she'd do in his place after all.

"Do you trust me?" Elsa asks him after a while.

"Of course" is all he has to say. She pulls away, but keeps his hand in hers. She squeezes it and leads him out of the sunlight. They make their way through the castle; at one point, Vergil tries to pull his hand free, but she holds fast.

"I don't care." she says to the question he doesn't have to ask.

"You're the queen." he says limply.

"They're bound to find out eventually. We might as well make it easy on them." she replies.

They pause before the open doors that lead out to the main courtyard. "Here goes." Elsa says, her tone belying the certainty of the words she'd spoken before. She steals a glance at Vergil. "Are you ready?" she asks. Instead of answering, he swoops in and kisses her, in front of the whole world, their hands gently clasping one another in the middle just as they'd done the first time they ever tried this. (So much for restraint.) And just like before, their minds fall silent. Time itself seems to be holding its breath. His lips are dry and chafing like the stubble on his chin. Hers are cool and soft and tender like most of the rest of her. A single thought echoes through their minds and hearts, and it's a thought they've had many times before. She wonders if he can hear it. He wonders if she can. They don't, but they know all the same. _I love you._

All too soon, the moment ends and they're left with a strange sense of loneliness, although they're far from alone. The moderately-sized crowd that has gathered around the entrance breaks into vigorous applause when the kiss is ended. Elsa looks about her in shock while Vergil looks as though he wishes he could still disappear. They make their way through the crowd, Elsa unable to entirely subdue the blush rising in her cheeks as she endeavors to thank each of the well-wishers individually. Vergil takes a moment to marvel at how he could be standing next to someone and still manage to feel like he wants to be closer to her.

As they walk through the gates and down the long narrow bridge, Vergil tries his hand at reading her mind the way she seems to have taken to reading his. "You're regretting it." he suggests.

Elsa looks at him, startled and afraid. "What? No, I-"

"The kiss." He hates himself for causing her even a moment's pain, for adding another droplet of fear into her mind, but it was the only way to ease the relentless refrain inside his own mind. _It would be so easy to break her..._

"No!" she says again, then repeats it softly. "No... Maybe..." She sighs angrily. "I don't know."

"You can't keep doubting yourself forever." Vergil tells her. "We are who our past and our choices have made us. You can't seriously think one missed kiss would turn you into a monster."

They cross the bridge with Elsa still struggling to find the right words to say. "What about you?" she asks finally. He turns away. "I see it all the time-" She turns his head back to her. "-in your eyes." she finishes, smiling sadly at him again. Against his better judgment, he leans into the touch of her hand on his cheek just a little, though he is able to fight off the momentary impulse to hold his hand against hers.

He opens his eyes. "It's nothing." he says, repeating the words that have come to be his mantra the last few days. "Nothing that should be discussed here." He steps away to look at the little village before them. Arendelle had spread from this, the center of town, all the way up the cliffs on either side of them. Soon it might reach into the forest itself. "Humans." Vergil says almost wonderingly. "I never could see what my brother found so interesting about them. They looked so weak, so...ordinary. But there _is_ more to life than just power." He hesitates before saying the next words that are on his lips. "For all his power, even _he_ was afraid at the end."

The air grows chill at even the thought of his name. "Who was?" Elsa asks him, hiding her hands behind her back, though she knows she is not the source of it this time.

He turns to face her. "His name is not spoken lightly," he warns. "Even by someone like me." He grimaces. "_Especially_ by someone like me." She is about to ask, no, _demand_ that he explain himself, but then he comes closer and whispers in her ear. "Mundus." The world grows dark for a moment, as if the sound of his name is enough to bring him power. Elsa shivers in spite of herself and he withdraws. "What did he do to you?" she asks.

"You don't want to know." Vergil tells her.

They are silent for the longest while. Slowly, the darkness seems to fade, but they have eyes only for each other. At last, she says, "Come with me."

"Where?" he asks, though in truth he hardly cares.

"The North Mountain." she says, pointing to the north. Vergil follows her outstretched arm with his gaze. Off in the distance, the peak of the highest mountain seems to twinkle in the setting sun. "There's something you should know about me."

_What is there to know? _he thinks. _I already know I love you._ But he follows her anyway.


	14. Time

_Don't give up; don't let the magic leave us._

_Stop the loneliest force becoming king of the universe!_

_Hear me, what words just can't convey..._

_Feel me; don't let the sun in your heart decay. _\- Big Freeze by Muse

* * *

Winter is coming. Not the sudden accidental winter of earlier this year, but a real one. The signs are all about them, from the leaves on the trees, surrendering to the inevitable branch by branch, to the air they breathe, crisp and cool and dry; dry like Vergil's voice as he says, "It's a long way to the top."

"We'll manage." Elsa says, but in truth, she's beginning to worry. The last time she made the journey, she'd been running on adrenaline and fear, and more than a little self-loathing. She should have thought this through! Making impulsive decisions was supposed to be Anna's thing, but lately even Elsa has found herself prone to flights of fancy. Ever since _he_ showed up...

For his part, Vergil is glad to be out of the castle. Grey ceilings and grey walls and grey floors can only do so much to keep his mind off of his worries. The street is wide and filled with the bustle of early evening. People scurry to and fro, casting surprised glances at the queen and her mysterious guest. Even these days, Elsa is hardly seen leaving the castle, the sole exception being the excitement of the week before when Vergil had made his highly memorable entrance. Yet they are respectful, murmuring greetings to their queen, or shouting them from farther away as their temperament dictates. Elsa nods graciously every time, her expression of unease invisible to all but the man beside her. He wonders for a moment how improper it would be if he were to try holding her hand, then he remembers what they just finished doing in the courtyard. It should have set his mind to rest, but he still keeps wondering. Has she gotten bored of him yet? Does his touch no longer excite her? Does hers no longer excite him? Vergil tests his theory by reaching out and taking hold of her hand. The feel of her skin against his own doesn't quite send shivers down his spine as it once did. Nevertheless, his nerves begin to subside. Her eyes meet his, and the rest seems to melt away. He loves her. He, the Son of Sparda, loves her, the queen of a little island nation somewhere in the northern sea. If his brother were here, he would probably die of laughter.

They continue down the street, unaware that they are being watched from inside the castle. The man tells his associates to relay to the staff that the queen has gone out for the evening, and that they shouldn't expect her back for quite some time. His associates want to come along for reasons of their own, but he says they shouldn't bother. He tells them to get a good meal in and some rest. If everything goes the way it should, they can meet him halfway if they want to gloat.

Meanwhile, the lovers have turned left. From here, it's just a short walk to the edge of the city, and then into the forest, where the shadows have already begun to lengthen. Elsa stops and frowns. "I should've asked for a lantern." she says, irritation evident in her face now as well as her voice. Vergil notices her hands are starting to twist themselves together, and hastens to intervene. "Should I ask one of the guards?" he asks.

She looks up. "Would you?" she says. The relief in her voice makes his heart ache.

"I won't be long." he assures her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. Almost immediately, the nagging thought returns. _It would be so easy to break her..._ Aloud, he says, "Try not to worry." She smiles, but as soon as he's gone, she can feel the ice start to build inside of her. At first, she's not even sure what she's afraid of. Then she knows, and knowing makes it worse. She doesn't want to be alone, with nothing but her frantic thoughts to keep her company.

Elsa hurries back into the square and down the short flight of wooden steps to the dock, where she stands and gazes out to sea. She's heard that some people find it relaxing, but all it does is remind her of the lives she's lost to it. A lump forms in her throat. She still misses them. She doesn't think she'll EVER stop missing them. She flinches as she hears an all-too-familiar cracking sound. She looks down, already knowing (and dreading) what she will find. Ice has crept insidiously along the dock from beneath her feet and down into the water. It's almost reached the first of the boats. Hastily, Elsa reaches out with her powers and pulls all of the ice back into herself. There is an almighty rush, then it's over. She staggers with the effort. "Elsa?" someone calls. She hears a thunk somewhere nearby, and now there are hands holding hers. She trembles at the touch and closes her eyes wearily, her breathing rough and shallow.

For all her talk that the cold didn't bother her, there are times when it does. It's made her hurt the ones she loves, and it never stops hurting _her_ as well. It never stops grinding against every nerve she has, every fiber of her being. It takes every opportunity it can to dull anything that might feel good that manages to break through her armor. Sometimes she wonders if the only way she'll be able to get rid of that slow creeping chill at the back of her spine is if she gives in and lets it take her over. But the thought of her sister, the thing she loves most in the whole wide world (_yes,_ she finally admits to herself, _even more than I love _him), is what brings her back to reality. She berates herself for those selfish desires, but they always manage to return.

"Elsa!" The voice is more insistent. Elsa opens her eyes. It's Vergil. He's still holding her hands, the lantern he brought back from the castle set down hastily by his feet (though not _too _hastily; she's relieved to see it's still upright). "What happened?" he asks, as if he's asked it before. She must have been too upset to hear him. She wants to comfort him, to say she's sorry for not hearing him before, but all that comes out is the usual "It's nothing." She takes a deep breath. "I'm fine." she says, pulling her hands away from him and close to her chest. She realizes that's one of her unconscious signals that everything is not, in fact, all right, so she forces herself to lower her arms to her side. "Let's go." Elsa says, and brushes past him, her regal demeanor unconsciously reasserting itself. Vergil follows after a moment. As he bends down to pick up the lantern, he's already steeling himself against the next blow to his heart, whenever it might arrive.

They've started to regress, the queen and her devil for a lover; they're becoming what they decided they didn't want to be any more. They don't even notice someone has started following them, but they will eventually, when he wants them to.


	15. Truth

_Angry at last, she fell in love._

_She didn't want to..._

_She simply wanted you._ \- Soon To Be Forgotten by Lynn Hilary

* * *

They begin the ascent. Vergil thinks he might be able to make the journey in less than half the time if he embraced his demonic half, but he's not sure that he'd like what he might become. _She_ certainly wouldn't; besides, she's the only one who knows where they're going, and he doesn't think now would be a good time to try and sweep her off her feet. She seems colder now than he's ever known her to be, but then he's only known her a week. The autumn leaves crunch magnificently under her heels. He has to fight to keep from staring, just as he did when they first met.

She can feel his eyes on her. She wonders if it's worth asking him to stop. It's not that she doesn't like having him look at her this way, but she's always found it difficult to maintain her composure when people won't stop staring. Even now, there's that trembling inside her fingers again that means her ice wants to come out and play. Elsa clenches her hands tight and continues to walk. Eventually, she has to say something. "I didn't come up this way the last time." Her words are quiet and shy. She feels like a little girl again. "I ran across the fjord." she finishes, somewhat lamely.

"You can walk on water?" Vergil amuses himself for a moment by imagining her as an angel all in white, but the truth is far more mundane.

"I froze it." Elsa admits. "I didn't mean to..." She remembers the last time she said those words, or something very similar, and it's like a punch to the stomach (or what she imagines such a thing might feel like). "I froze _everything_..." She almost had too. She almost killed her sister. The memories threaten to overwhelm her. "I- I have to sit down." she mumbles. Luckily, there's a building in sight, the only one for miles. There aren't any lights on inside, so they decide not to try the door. They sit down outside on the steps beneath a large wooden sign, with a smaller one below it. _Wandering Oaken's Trading Post_, the large sign reads. _And Sauna,_ the smaller one adds.

There is another uncomfortable silence. Vergil yearns to reach out and hold her. It feels as if it's been forever since he has. But what if she rejects him again, like she did on the dock? He doesn't know what he would do, so he doesn't do anything. She just sits there, staring off into space, hugging herself, because no one else will. He looks away and says nothing.

Soon they start walking again, in silence.

* * *

It's dark the next time any more words are spoken. Vergil strikes a match, and as he moves to light the lantern, he's reminded of a curious incident he'd neglected to inform Elsa about. "They knew you were going out." he says.

"Who did?" Elsa asks.

"The guards at the castle. When I asked one of them for a lantern, he didn't even think to ask why. And when he offered it to me, all he said was 'Take good care of the queen.'"

The discrepancy is not lost on the queen in question. "I didn't tell anyone I was going out. I-I didn't have time, I- How could they _know_?" she murmurs.

Her anxiety is contagious. He struggles to keep his own in check even as he struggles to reassure her. "It's probably nothing. Most likely one of the townsfolk came and asked questions." But they both remember that neither one of them had told _anyone_ where they were going, not even in town. Their memories are often too sharp for their own good.

Vergil finds himself listening carefully to the sounds of the forest all around them. Somewhere behind them a twig snaps. He turns and scans the darkness carefully, but the light from the lantern only reaches so far. Anything beyond might as well be invisible. For a moment, he thinks he can see a shadow that seems to stand out from the rest. It looks as if it might be in the shape of a man. He squints, but whatever it was is gone. Elsa has turned to look at him. "What is it?" she asks. The fear is evident in her voice.

"I thought I saw something." he says, then he shakes his head. "It was nothing." The old familiar tune. "Come on. It's getting late." He waits for her to walk ahead, which she does, but not before casting one more frightened glance behind her. The stranger thanks his black cloak silently, though after a moment's thought he draws the hood up around his head. Perhaps a less recognizable shape would pass inspection more easily...

* * *

They stop to rest several times. Once she even says something. "I'm sorry." she says. "I should have thought this through..." It's late. The moon is rising in the west.

"I could use the exercise." Vergil says. He prefers to remain standing, watching the woods in what he hopes looks like idle and not impatient curiosity. "I was starting to grow soft in that castle."

Elsa's heart sinks. She'd made him feel like a prisoner. She wishes she could tell him that he'd been welcome to go whenever he wanted, but she would be lying. She doesn't know what she would do without him now. She _knows_ it isn't healthy to love someone like this (the phrase 'if you love someone, let them go' hadn't become popular for nothing), but she can't help the way she feels, any more than she can keep the ice from spreading out from under her now... Elsa jumps to her feet and backs away from the rock she had been sitting on. Vergil whirls around. "Elsa?" he says in alarm. He steps forward, his eyes darting to the forest on his left where he thinks she's looking.

"It's happening again." she whispers. The ground cracks strangely beneath her feet. "I can't- I can't control it..." She looks as though she's going to try and run away, so Vergil does the only thing that he can think of. He takes another step forward and hugs her. Hard. She is tense in his arms. "Let go of me!" she shouts, her voice muffled by his shirt, but her heart isn't in it. He does his best to ignore the cold that's started seeping into his body. He knows she doesn't mean it. She starts convulsing in silent grief-stricken sobs. Yet again he finds himself at a loss for words, or even things he can do. All he can do is hold her and hope that will be enough. And for a time, it is.

Soon Elsa is calm enough to try to settle into his embrace. She even puts her arms around him in return, though it only makes him feel how much she's shaking. Vergil wants to hug her tighter. He has this strange notion that if he hugs her tight enough she'll be able to feel how much he loves her, because she'll be pressed right up against his heart. It's a romantic idea, and as such, completely foreign to him. He thinks he should be feeling ashamed of himself for it right now, but the way Elsa is pressed up against him doesn't leave him any room to feel anything other than _good_.

They lose track of time. The moon is high above them when at last they break apart. Elsa smiles one of her now-famous trembling smiles that never fail to break his heart. "We're almost there," she says. "I think. I didn't come up this way before-"

Vergil smiles back, putting her nervous stammers to rest. "Just lead the way." he tells her soothingly (at least he hopes he says it soothingly). Elsa nods. She leads him to an ominous-looking gorge obstructing their path. Beyond it, the hills become steeper, and they can see snow in the distance. He wonders if she thinks he could jump it. He wonders if he could. Before he has a chance to ask, Elsa raises a hand and a beam of frost shoots out. Quickly, it moulds itself into a bridge, with railings on either side for safety. Elsa thinks of everything. She beams proudly at it. It's one of the only things she seems comfortable taking pride in, Vergil notes. The smile on her face makes him want to kiss her, but before he can try, she steps out onto the bridge, carefully gauging the way it feels underfoot. She looks back over her shoulder. "I made it strong enough for two." she says, her eyes hopeful. Vergil doesn't disappoint. He steps on without a moment's hesitation. It feels just as solid as the ground he just left. He moves in behind her and wraps his arms around her again, but she breaks free almost immediately and runs ahead. The act of conscious creation seems to have lifted her spirits.

"It's this way!" Elsa says, pointing to the left. He tries to follow her finger, but she's off like a flash, her dress glittering erratically in the moonlight. She doesn't make it far though; climbing hills is even harder in heels, and she struggles a little before he helps her up. This time, he fails to keep his eyes where she had hinted they belong, although if you prefer to think of it another way, he succeeded. She bestows on him another one of her smiles, this one warm and dazzling like the sun, and that's all the thanks he needs.


	16. Hearts

_Steal a soul for a second chance,  
But you will never become a man.  
My chosen torture makes me stronger  
In a life that craves the hunger.  
A freedom and a quest for life...  
Until the end of judgement night. _\- Devils Never Cry, written by Shawn McPherson

* * *

He stops just inches away from her mouth, and smiles. "Hold that thought." he says. He's heard something inside. Elsa opens her eyes and nods, somewhat crestfallen at the delay. Vergil walks over to the newly repaired doors. He pauses for a moment. "Whatever happens in there...it was meant to happen." he tells her over his shoulder. His voice is cool and quiet. Elsa wants to know what he thinks might happen, but before she can ask, he opens the doors and steps inside. Elsa follows after him. She stiffens in shock as she enters the room. There's another man waiting there. His cloak is black, an eyesore amidst the white and blue, and drawn up over his head so that it covers his face. "Why have you come here?" Vergil is asking the stranger. The stranger says nothing. "What did you hope to achieve?" Vergil asks. Again the man says nothing.

Elsa moves forward, her patience at an end. "I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle." she says. Her voice is loud and firm. "You are intruding on a private moment. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

A pause, then the stranger finally speaks. "I'm afraid I can't do that your majesty." he says as he lowers his hood. Elsa gasps. The newcomer is a dead ringer for Vergil. If he didn't have his hair combed down, she doubts she would ever be able to tell them apart. "You've got no idea what you're dealing with." he adds.

Vergil scowls. "Elsa, I'd like you to meet my twin brother Dante." He sounds as if he'd like just about anything more. "You may remember him as the one who got swallowed by a demon whale." he says.

"Hey, I'd like to see you have done better!" Dante says. Vergil just looks at him scornfully. "Hang on a sec... Where was I?" Dante asks. He scratches his head just as Elsa had seen Vergil do in the library. Then, he spreads his hands as if he'd remembered, when in truth he never really forgot. "Oh yeah." he says. "I was about to out you in front of your girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend." Vergil says with another scowl.

"Oh yeah? Then what is she?" Dante asks. Vergil is about to respond when he realizes he doesn't know. He looks over at Elsa, who also seems to be waiting for his answer. He says nothing. "I'll tell you what she is." Dante says, a trace of anger in his voice. "She's just another victim, isn't she?" Elsa's heart skips a beat. "One more toy for you to use up and throw away so you can try and get more 'power'." Dante starts to pace, all the while never taking his eyes off his brother. "Well you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you putting everyone else's lives at risk so you can live forever!" His anger is overflowing. The room becomes an ominous shade of red. Vergil notices the changing color and looks back to Elsa. She's watching the newcomer, her eyes wide with fright. He offers her his hand. She doesn't notice, but Dante does. "Aw, isn't that sweet." he says mockingly. "You think a little hand-holding's gonna make up for the things you've done?" He jabs a finger angrily in Vergil's direction.

Elsa's heart skips another beat. "What has he done?" she asks quietly.

Dante makes an effort to calm down. He may be many things, a fighter, an actor, a clown, but a bully he is not. "Last time I saw him, or the real him, he tried to open the gate to hell." he says. At least he isn't still shouting. "He tried to merge the human and demon worlds just so he could get ahold of a sword."

Like most humans, Elsa doesn't know much about demons. She knows they exist, or do in some parts of the world, butshe doesn't understand what they are exactly. "Is that true?" she asks Vergil, hoping that she's wrong in what she thinks he means what he talks about 'the things he's done'.

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's true." he tells her. She takes a step back. Her eyes grow wider. Vergil stops himself from reaching out to her and instead looks to his brother. "But I am not that man anymore." he says. Dante crosses his arms. He looks skeptical. "People change, Dante. Even me. Do you really think I would be up here if I was still the man you knew?" Dante softens a little. Vergil turns to Elsa. "I have made many bad choices in my life. And if someone gave me the chance to fix them, I can't honestly say that I would." That doesn't seem to have helped. "We are who our choices make us." he says again. "If I hadn't done those things, I wouldn't be able to love you the way I do." He's so focused on finding the right words, he doesn't notice the tears that are welling in her eyes. But Dante does.

Elsa struggles to speak. "I need a moment. By...myself..." she says at last. The brothers look at each other.

Dante shrugs. "She's YOUR girlfriend." he says. Vergil ignores him for now and walks over to put a hand on Elsa's shoulder. She tenses, but doesn't brush him off. After a moment, Vergil leaves. Dante is soon to follow.

* * *

The storm starts to pick up as they leave the castle. Vergil's heart aches for her, but he knows he can't do anything for her now. Dante leads the way down the staircase, swinging the lantern over his shoulder with a finger. "How did you know where to look for me?" Vergil asks. His voice would be almost impossible to hear over the rising wind, but they've always been good at hearing one another, even when it would be in their best interest not to.

"I got a letter." Dante says by way of explanation. "Postmark said it came from a place called Arendelle. I hadn't heard about it, so I looked around. Apparently, it disappeared almost 200 years ago."

Vergil pauses. "'Disappeared'?"

"Yeah. Whole bunch of islands all the way from the North Sea to the South; they just vanished."

There's a chill going down Vergil's back that has nothing to do with the cold. "So where...when...are we?"

"Who knows?" Dante says in his usual flippant manner, then suddenly he turns serious. "You feel it though, don't you? There's something bad out there; something _evil_." His words hang heavy in the air. For a moment, Vergil can almost see it: an ominous shadow looms over the island, yet it is only a fraction of a whole. As usual though, Dante ruins the moment. "So, how'd you end up here anyway?" he asks.

Vergil sighs inwardly. "I wish I knew." he says. "Elsa said that I fell into the harbor one morning, on fire. She had to put me out herself."

"How the hell'd she do that?" Dante asks.

Vergil looks up behind him at the castle. It's hidden behind a blanket of swirling snow. "You tell me." he says.

There is an uncomfortable pause. "You always were good at disappearing." Dante says eventually. "Maybe you just bamf'd out after I cut you up."

"'Bamf'd'?" Vergil asks. He knows he's going to regret asking.

"What? It's what Nightcrawler does!" Dante protests. Vergil looks at him blankly. Dante scoffs in disbelief. "We gotta get you some _culture_!"

"I hardly think reading comic books counts as culture." Vergil says.

Dante scoffs again. "Well aren't you the snob." He didn't know that Vergil's inner doubts had already said this to him some days before. How could he? But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Another awkward pause. "She sure is taking a while." Dante remarks to pass the time.

"She'll come down when she's ready." Vergil replies. Then he adds, "...and by the way, she is NOT my girlfriend."

Dante chuckles. "Whatever you say, pal."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I've seen you two together. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way you look at her. Hell, I even saw you guys kissing outside her room!"

"You what?"

"Yeah! Why else do you think I'm up so late?" Dante is grinning broadly. "I couldn't get any sleep if I TRIED!"

Vergil scowls. He thinks he'll be doing a lot of that from now on. "If I still had my sword, this would be the point where I took it out and stabbed you."

"Oh yeah, been meaning to tell you-" But whatever Dante has to say has to wait. The storm around the castle is beginning to clear. They turn to watch. Slowly, the large doors at the front of the palace swing open. And there stands Elsa, both diminutive and regal at the same time. Even from this far away, they can both see that she has clearly been crying. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she takes his breath away. One of them, at least... Dante lets out a whistle as she descends the staircase. Vergil elbows him sharply in the side. Now _he's_ short of breath. Elsa ignores this as she comes closer. (She isn't sure how to respond.) She and Vergil stand eye-to-eye but several paces apart. She takes a deep breath. "I've done some...thinking." she says, dramatically underplaying it. "And I can't say I'm...happy with what you did, but I...if you're sure, if you-if you PROMISE you won't do it again, or anything LIKE it-"

He stops her stammering with a smile. "I promise." he says.

She smiles back hesitantly. "I... I don't want..." She's trying to find the words to tell him she doesn't want to hurt him, forgetting that she already has, but Vergil steps forward and she falls silent. Elsa looks at him apprehensively. Vergil looks at her tenderly. It's starting to hurt how much he loves her, just like it did before. "I know." he tells her. He kisses her, and all the trouble and fear of the past many hours melts away. He kisses her, and she feels as if she could faint. He kisses her, and his idiot brother dumps an armful of snow over both of them. "Woohoo; time to party!" Dante cries. They ignore him. His shoulders slump a little. "Hey. I don't wanna rush ya, but I got you a reservation at the sauna..." They're still ignoring him."Your sister worked it out with Oaken...? Just the two of you...?" Still ignoring him. "Okay, well... I guess I'll go down there myself." He sets off down the slope, lantern in hand. "I could use a good steam bath..." he mutters to himself.

Above him, Vergil pulls away. "Did you hear that?" he asks Elsa.

She nods. "I've never been to one before!" she says, a little hesitantly.

"Ladies first." Vergil says with a grin.

"Nah," she replies with a grin of her own. "Let's do it together!"

They set off hand in hand through the snow. It's a long trip back to Arendelle, but there are plenty of stops for kisses along the way.


	17. All These Things The Devil Has Done

_Steal a soul for a second chance,  
But you will never become a man.  
My chosen torture makes me stronger  
In a life that craves the hunger.  
A freedom and a quest for life...  
Until the end of judgement night. _\- Devils Never Cry, written by Shawn McPherson

* * *

He stops just inches away from her mouth, and smiles. "Hold that thought." he says. He's heard something inside. Elsa opens her eyes and nods, somewhat crestfallen at the delay. Vergil walks over to the newly repaired doors. He pauses for a moment. "Whatever happens in there...it was meant to happen." he tells her over his shoulder. His voice is cool and quiet. Elsa wants to know what he thinks might happen, but before she can ask, he opens the doors and steps inside. Elsa follows after him. She stiffens in shock as she enters the room. There's another man waiting there. His cloak is black, an eyesore amidst the white and blue, and drawn up over his head so that it covers his face. "Why have you come here?" Vergil is asking the stranger. The stranger says nothing. "What did you hope to achieve?" Vergil asks. Again the man says nothing.

Elsa moves forward, her patience at an end. "I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle." she says. Her voice is loud and firm. "You are intruding on a private moment. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

A pause, then the stranger finally speaks. "I'm afraid I can't do that your majesty." he says as he lowers his hood. Elsa gasps. The newcomer is a dead ringer for Vergil. If he didn't have his hair combed down, she doubts she'd ever be able to tell them apart. "You've got no idea what you're dealing with." he adds.

Vergil scowls. "Elsa, I'd like you to meet my twin brother Dante. You may remember him as the one who got swallowed by a demon whale." he says. He sounds as if he'd like just about anything more.

"Hey, I'd like to see you have done better!" Dante says. Vergil just looks at him scornfully. "Hang on a sec... Where was I?" Dante asks. He scratches his head just like Elsa had seen Vergil do in the library. Then, he spreads his hands as if he'd remembered, when in truth he never really forgot. "Oh yeah." he says. "I was about to out you in front of your girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend." Vergil says with another scowl.

"Oh yeah? Then what is she?" Dante asks. Vergil is about to respond when he realizes he doesn't know. He looks over at Elsa, who also seems to be waiting for his answer. He says nothing. "I'll tell you what she is." Dante says, a trace of anger in his voice. "She's just another victim, isn't she?" Elsa's heart skips a beat. "One more toy for you to use up and throw away so you can try and get more 'power'." Dante starts to pace, all the while never taking his eyes off his brother. "Well you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you putting everyone else's lives at risk so you can live forever!" His anger is overflowing. The room becomes an ominous shade of red. Vergil notices the changing color and looks back to Elsa. She's watching the newcomer, her eyes wide with fright. He offers her his hand. She doesn't notice, but Dante does. "Aw, isn't that sweet." he says mockingly. "You think a little hand-holding's gonna make up for the things you've done?" He jabs a finger angrily in Vergil's direction.

Elsa's heart skips another beat. "What has he done?" she asks quietly.

Dante makes an effort to calm down. He may be many things, a fighter, an actor, a clown, but a bully he is not. "Last time I saw him, or the real him, he tried to open the gate to hell." At least he isn't still shouting. "He tried to merge the human and demon worlds just so he could get ahold of a sword."

Like most humans, Elsa doesn't know much about demons. She knows they exist, or do in some parts of the world, butshe doesn't understand what they are exactly. "Is that true?" she asks Vergil, hoping that she's wrong in what she thinks he means what he talks about 'the things he's done'.

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's true." he tells her. She takes a step back. Her eyes grow wider. Vergil stops himself from reaching out to her and instead looks to his brother. "But I am not that man anymore." he says. Dante crosses his arms. He looks skeptical. "People change, Dante. Even me. Do you really think I would be up here if I was still the man you knew?" Dante softens a little. Vergil turns to Elsa. "I have made many bad choices in my life. And if someone gave me the chance to fix them, I can't honestly say that I would." That doesn't seem to have helped. "We are who our choices make us." he says again. "If I hadn't done those things, I wouldn't be able to love you the way I do." He's so focused on finding the right words, he doesn't notice the tears that are welling in her eyes. But Dante does.

Elsa struggles to speak. "I need a moment. By...myself..." she says at last. The brothers look at each other.

Dante shrugs. "She's YOUR girlfriend." he says. Vergil ignores him for now and walks over to put a hand on Elsa's shoulder. She tenses, but doesn't brush him off. After a moment, Vergil leaves. Dante is soon to follow.

* * *

The storm starts to pick up as they leave the castle. Vergil's heart aches for her, but he knows he can't do anything for her now. Dante leads the way down the staircase, swinging the lantern over his shoulder with a finger. "How did you know where to look for me?" Vergil asks. His voice would be almost impossible to hear over the rising wind, but they've always been good at hearing one another, even when it would be in their best interest not to.

"I got a letter." Dante says by way of explanation. "Postmark said it came from a place called Arendelle. I hadn't heard about it, so I looked around. Apparently, it disappeared almost 300 years ago."

Vergil pauses. "'Disappeared'?"

"Yeah. Whole bunch of islands all the way from the North Sea to the South; they just vanished."

There's a chill going down Vergil's back that has nothing to do with the cold. "So where...when...are we?"

"Who knows?" Dante says in his usual flippant manner, then suddenly he turns serious. "You feel it though, don't you? There's something dark here; something _evil_." His words hang heavy in the air. For a moment, Vergil can almost see it: something dreadful looms over the island, yet it is only a fraction of a whole. As usual though, Dante ruins the moment. "So, how'd you wind up here anyway?" he asks.

Vergil sighs inwardly. "I wish I knew." he says. "Elsa said that I fell into the harbor one morning, on fire. She had to put me out herself."

"How the hell'd she do that?" Dante asks.

Vergil looks up behind him at the castle. It's hidden behind a blanket of swirling snow. "You tell me."

There's an uncomfortable pause. "You always were good at disappearing." Dante says eventually. "Maybe you just bamf'd out after I cut you up."

"'Bamf'd'?" Vergil asks. He knows he's going to regret asking.

"What? It's what Nightcrawler does!" Dante protests. Vergil looks at him blankly. Dante scoffs in disbelief. "We gotta get you some _culture_!"

"I hardly think reading comic books counts as culture." Vergil says.

Dante scoffs again. "Well aren't you the snob." He didn't know that Vergil's inner doubts had already said this to him some days before. How could he? But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Another awkward pause. "She sure is taking a while." Dante remarks to pass the time.

"She'll come down when she's ready." Vergil replies. Then, "...and by the way, she is NOT my girlfriend."

Dante chuckles. "Whatever you say, pal."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I've seen you two together. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way you look at her. Hell, I even saw you guys kissing outside her room!"

"You what?"

"Yeah! Why else do you think I'm up so late?" Dante is grinning broadly. "I couldn't get any sleep if I TRIED!"

Vergil scowls. He thinks he'll be doing a lot of that from now on. "If I still had my sword, this would be the point where I took it out and stabbed you."

"Oh yeah, been meaning to tell you-" But whatever Dante has to say has to wait. The storm around the castle is beginning to clear. They turn to watch. Slowly, the large doors at the front of the palace swing open. And there stands Elsa, both diminutive and regal at the same time. Even from this far away, they can both see that she has clearly been crying. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she takes his breath away. One of them, at least... Dante lets out a whistle as she descends the staircase. Vergil elbows him sharply in the side. Now _he's_ short of breath. Elsa ignores this as she comes closer. (She isn't sure how to respond.) She and Vergil stand eye-to-eye but several paces apart. She takes a deep breath. "I've done some...thinking." she says, dramatically underplaying it. "And I can't say I'm...happy with what you did, but I...if you're sure, if you-if you PROMISE you won't do it again, or anything LIKE it-"

He stops her stammering with a smile. "I promise." he says.

She smiles back hesitantly. "I... I don't want..." She's trying to find the words to tell him she doesn't want to hurt him, forgetting that she already has, but Vergil steps forward and she falls silent. Elsa looks at him apprehensively. Vergil looks at her lovingly. It's starting to hurt how much he loves her, just like it did before. "I know." he tells her. He kisses her, and all the trouble and fear of the past many hours melts away. He kisses her, and she feels as if she could faint. He kisses her, and his idiot brother dumps a handful of snow over both of them. "Woohoo; time to party!" Dante cries. They ignore him. His shoulders slump a little. "Hey. I don't wanna rush ya, but I got you a reservation at the sauna..." They're still ignoring him."Your sister worked it out with Oaken...? Just the two of you...?" Still ignoring him. "Okay, well... I guess I'll go down there myself." He sets off down the slope, lantern in hand. "I could use a good steam bath..." he mutters to himself.

Above him, Vergil pulls away. "Did you hear that?" he asks Elsa.

She nods. "I've never been to one before!" she says, a little hesitantly.

"Ladies first." Vergil says with a grin.

"Nah," she replies with a grin of her own. "Let's do it together!"

They set off hand in hand through the snow. It's a long trip back to Arendelle, but there are plenty of stops for kisses along the way.


	18. And Now?

The three of them stumble down the slope. At one point, Dante jokingly requests a sled from Elsa, and is momentarily taken aback when she whisks one up in a moment. Ever one to roll with the punches, he bows low before the queen, then stamps loudly on the end, flipping his new toy up into the air. He catches it with an upraised arm and uses the other to snap her a salute before strolling on ahead in search of a slope. Elsa is somewhat surprised at the fondness of the smile that spreads across her face as she watches him go. "He has quite a..._way..._about him" is all she can think of saying.

"That's one way of putting it." Vergil says. He neglects to inform Elsa of his brother's peculiar taste in music. And women. And firearms; though he's not sure she would know what a firearm is. Something froze this land in time over two hundred years ago. Only the darkest forms of magic would be capable of doing that. But the power required to anchor such a spell is unfathomable. What could possibly be worth guarding for all that time? He can certainly think of something, or rather some_one_. But that road is no longer for him. He's afraid for a moment that he might be tempted when Elsa is old and gray. Once again, he decides he'll cross that bridge when the time comes.

Elsa notices Vergil's absent expression. She also notices the careless ease with which he traverses the terrain, even while his thoughts are occupied. There's a sense of rigidity about the way he moves however, like he's holding himself back. She wonders what he would be like if he let himself loose, then wonders what _she_ would be like in the same situation. A vision comes to mind, that curious sort of vision where one feels instead of sees. Her dress is hard and jagged, the curves and beauty she had been so enamored with her whole life replaced by merciless and unyielding majesty. No loving hugs for this witch of the northern sea. She would cover the world in snow; the people she'd been afraid of for so long would be _made_ to worship her, their hearts as icy and lifeless as her own.

Suddenly, Elsa is aware of herself, the real her, and her clenched and trembling fists, and the ice that runs like solid blood from her fingertips. Can she bleed? Can she feel? It's hard to tell. Her thoughts race toward Anna, asleep at home in the castle, probably with the iceman of flesh and bone by her side. Her heartbeat slows. She can feel. She can bleed. If her sister can, so can she.

The mountains have begun to subside. Dante is still nowhere in sight, though every now and then, a sound comes drifting with the wind: a sound of laughter, heartfelt and hearty. _Same old Dante,_ Vergil thinks. He'd never thought of Dante as strong. He WAS a Son of Sparda, true, but he'd always seemed the human to Vergil's devil. Warm, caring, jovial, always ready with a wisecrack or a slap on the back, but never capable of getting things done. Not when it came to things that mattered. Vergil's memories of his days of darkness, even before the fall, are somewhat muddled. It was always one scheme after another, one more ancient artifact to plunder, one more demon to slay. He can hardly remember what he was fighting for. It was _something_ to do with family... Maybe he thought the ends justified the means, that even stabbing his brother through the heart was a part of a whole. Once he had his power, he could _share_ it...no, he'd never share it. He would use it justly, like his father, to protect the innocents that he'd killed so many times before... Vergil curses to himself. There's no sense to be had there.

Then again, there's hardly any sense to be had here and now. It must be close to 3 o'clock in the morning, and here he is, on the way back to a castle he seems to have every intention of making his _home_, with a woman he'd only just met the other week and who he's already convinced himself he's fallen in love with. Is it really love? He hardly remembers what it feels like to love. It's been so long since his parents had gone. He can't even be sure he loved _them_ to begin with, and not some idealized cardboard cutouts he created in his mind after they died. Of course he would never ask DANTE. It's not the sort of conversation twin brothers have. "What were our parents like?" What were our parents like indeed...

And there he is, standing easily at the bottom of the hill Vergil and Elsa have been struggling down for the past few minutes, looking for all the world like he's just completed one of his usual acrobatic feats. Perhaps he has; the sled is nowhere in sight. "You took your time." Dante observes, his hands on his hips. "Weren't trying any funny business, I hope?" Elsa restrains a blush and sweeps past him, choosing not to dignify that with a response. "All right, fine." Dante says, turning to watch her go. "Let's see how long you can keep up that silent treatment..." Vergil makes as if to elbow his brother in the side again as he passes. Dante is ready, but so is he; as Dante takes a half step back, bringing his body just out of range, Vergil takes a step forward, whirling his body around, his other fist clenched and raised and ready to wipe that smirk off his brother's idiot face. Dante leans backward just in time and grabs Vergil by his outstretched arm. He tries to swing his brother around, but Vergil grits his teeth and yanks his whole body forward. His feet connect squarely with Dante's chest, sending him tumbling down the hill. Elsa lets out a gasp as Dante rolls past her. "Heads up!" he shouts, somewhat belatedly. He skids to a halt, somehow still on his feet, and glares up at his older brother. "You're getting slow!" he calls. "Time was, you'd have followed that backhand up with a good old roundhouse kick to the face!"

Elsa approaches Dante and is about to ask if he's all right when a sudden noise makes her look back up at Vergil. He jumps high into the air, and lands squarely behind Dante, who'd clearly been expecting this. He makes no effort to defend himself. He doesn't even bother to look over his shoulder as his brother says, "You're just jealous because you fell for the oldest trick in the book."

Dante snorts. "You just made that one up." he says accusingly.

"And you still fell for it." Vergil smirks. Dante turns around to deliver a retort when they both notice the chill in the air. Vergil turns as well. Elsa has taken a step back. Her eyes are wide with fear. "Elsa?" Vergil asks her quietly.

She looks at him. "Please don't do that again." she says, her voice trembling.

Vergil nods reassuringly. "At least not for a while," he says. "I AM a Son of Sparda."

"It's kind of our thing." Dante adds. "Well, that and sword fighting."

"But since neither of us happened to bring our swords..." Vergil says, with a meaningful glare at Dante. "...we'll refrain from that as well." Elsa gulps, but nods a little. She waits for her two companions to join her before she heads off into the forest. She still doesn't want to be alone, though the memory of what Dante had said awaited them at Oaken's trading post is enough to make her wish she _was_.

* * *

Later, Dante falls behind to give the two lovers a chance to talk. Naturally, they refuse, instead walking along side by side, casting lingering glances at one other, hoping _they'll_ be the one to break the silence. This time it's Vergil. He too has been thinking about the sauna his brother promised them, and the anxiety one of their last even remotely intimate encounters had provoked. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, forgetting for a moment they don't share the same mind; but she knows what he means.

"I don't know." Elsa mutters. "I've never been in one before... I-I don't know how it'd feel; I-"

He stops and turns to face her. "Do you trust me?" he asks. Elsa has to think about it for a moment, but yes, she does. She nods. He takes a step closer. She shivers, as if she knows what he's about to do. He walks slowly around behind her. Dante shakes his head and runs on ahead. This is one mental image he can do without. Vergil puts his arms around her. Her breath catches in her throat. "What about now?" he says in a low quiet tone. Elsa nods again. Her shivering has grown stronger. He lowers his lips to the crook of her neck. "Now?" he murmurs. Elsa has goosebumps. Elsa _never_ has goosebumps. Her lips are parted. Her breathing is hard and ragged, like it was down by the docks, but in a good way this time. Vergil's hands move lower, and lower, until they finally come to rest. One is splayed across her stomach, the other lies flat against her hip. Those hips. Those wonderful wonderful hips, the hips he realizes he's adored from the moment he laid eyes on them; them and everything they're attached to. Elsa is, ironically, as still as ice in his arms. Even her trembling seems to have stopped. They're waiting for someone else to make the first move.

At last, Vergil speaks. "If you made it through that, well... that was nothing like a sauna." he says. She can feel him smile against her skin.

Somehow, Elsa manages to speak. "I don't think I could take much more of that." she whispers.

"Truth be told, neither can I." Vergil says, then he straightens up and pulls his arms back to his sides. "So we'd better hurry."

* * *

The rest of the trip is agony. Vergil is torn between thinking of what happened as a mistake and thinking of it as the best thing he's done since he got here. Elsa is trying to think of ways to repay his 'kindness' from earlier. For once however, time is not on their side. Soon they see the familiar wooden building in the distance, and their anxiety grows. Elsa clutches her hands to her chest, stealing awkward sidelong looks at Vergil. He wishes he could do something to help her relax, but all he can think of is to ask her again, "Are you sure about this?"

Elsa starts a little and refuses to look him in the eye. "I _think_ so. I have to learn some time, right?" she says.

"You don't HAVE to do anything." Dante says from in front. "You're the queen, aren't you?"

Elsa tries to explain. In order to do so, she has to breathe deeply and push away her anxiety about the encounter that's still to come. It's easier said than done. "If we are going to be...courting-" she starts to say. The word dredges up one of her oldest and most potent fears: being alone. She still carries it with her to some extent, lessened by the Great Thaw of several months ago, but it is still there. She wonders how many people she'll need to love her before she feels normal, assuming she ever can. She realizes they're both staring at her, waiting for her to continue, so she stammers on. "I-uh... If we are going to be courting, we should take time to...familiarize ourselves with physical, uh...in-intimacy." Elsa is trying desperately not to blush by the time she finishes.

Vergil opens his mouth to say something, but Dante beats him to it. "Look, your sister and I've done some talking. I think she's given me an idea about the kind of life you've led." He steps forward, putting a comforting hand on Elsa's shoulder. His voice is soft, maybe even kind. "What I'm saying is, you don't have to rush into anything. Just stop worrying about what you HAVE to do, and focus on what you WANT to do for a change. It's not gonna make the world end!" As reassurances go, it isn't particularly memorable; in fact it could and probably has been better said. But it _is_ from the heart. Sometimes that's all that matters.

Elsa might have responded, but a flash of a familiar red peeking around the corner of the trading post catches her eye. "Anna..." she calls in pretend anger. A giggle is heard. The brothers watch in amusement, though Vergil quickly wipes the smile off his face when he sees that Dante is also wearing one.

Anna stumbles into view, like someone's just pushed her out from behind (or in front of) the building. "Um...hi Elsa." she says nervously. Elsa folds her arms and glowers. Or she tries to. "It-it's a nice night for a walk!" Anna adds. She grins awkwardly, and toothily.

"At 3 o'clock in the morning." Elsa says flatly.

"More like 4..." Anna's voice trails off as the town bells toll in agreement. One... two... three... four... Anna seems to shrink with every chime. As the last one disappears into the night, Elsa can hold back no longer. She breaks into an enormous smile and gives her sister an equally enormous hug. Anna's shoulders stiffen, but she recovers quickly from the shock and hugs Elsa back hard. "You're not...mad at me?" she asks.

Elsa's response is to tighten the hug. "Of course I'm not!" she says, with a warmth in her voice that makes even Dante a little envious. "Why would I be?" She pulls back to look her sister in the eye. "I heard you've been entertaining visitors all on your own!" she adds.

Anna goes as red as her hair. "It's not like that, honest! Kristoff's been on his own for so long, and he just wanted some company- not THAT kind of company, just, you know, HUMAN company instead of TROLLS-"

"I meant Dante." Elsa says with a laugh.

"Oh. Oh!" Anna's blush starts to recede. "Yeah, he came in a couple of days ago and he's been kind of hiding out ever since."

Elsa looks over at Dante. "What; don't I get a hug?" he asks. She shakes her head in disbelief and returns to her sister.

"Were you planning on introducing me, or were you hoping I wouldn't die of fright if I ran into him?" Elsa asks.

"He said he wanted to make a big dramatic entrance, so I just kind of let him do his own thing!" Anna says. Her face falls suddenly. "I didn't think about what it would do to you. You'd...been gone for so long, I just thought- I guess I was going back to the way things used to be..."

Elsa hugs her again. The whole forest is quiet now. Dante gives Vergil a nudge. "Let's give 'em a minute." he mutters. Vergil nods. The twin brothers walk quietly around the two sisters. As they make their way to the front of the store, Dante stops for a moment in front of Kristoff, who's watching the sisters like he's in a trance. "Gonna go start the sauna." he says matter-of-factly. Kristoff doesn't respond. "...you gonna help?" Dante asks.

Kristoff looks up. "Huh? Yeah, sure, I just-" He gets to his feet, but can't stop staring at the sisters, still locked in their loving embrace.

"Pretty cute huh?" Dante says. That's an understatement. The lantern makes Anna's hair almost glow in the dim light, and the occasional sparkles it elicits from Elsa's dress does strange things to all of their hearts. "You did good kid. She's gonna be happy with the two of you around." he adds after a while.

"Kid?" Kristoff asks as he follows the brothers into the store. "I'm no kid."

"You are where we're concerned." Vergil says while Dante shows him how to get things started.

"Speaking of which...how old _are_ you guys exactly?" Kristoff asks.

Dante gives him an amused sidelong look. "Old enough you oughta know better then to ask something like that." he says.

Kristoff is embarrassed. "Sorry. I uh, I don't know much about...people..."

"Neither do I." Vergil says. He's pleasantly surprised at his own honesty.

"For the record, I just turned 30." Dante says to Kristoff, with a reassuring grin on his face. He works with the hot water valves for a moment and frowns. "When the hell'd I get so old?" he asks.

There's a pause, during which Kristoff realizes he hasn't been doing anything. "Wait, why did you want me in here when you already had everything covered?" he asks suspiciously.

"He just wanted someone else to bother." Vergil says. "The last of the valves is outside. It won't take long." He stops, his hand already on the handle. "Dante. I am almost ten years older than the woman I've been courting."

Dante shrugs. "Love is crazy; what'd you expect?" he says. Vergil doesn't know what to say, so he heads outside. The sisters are still talking. Elsa does notice when he comes out of the building, but the thought of what's to come makes her focus on her sister. Yet somehow, that's as it should be. Family first. They're not family yet; they hardly even know one another. But there will be time for that in the weeks and months (if not years) to come.

_It has been more than a decade since I last saw my brother_, Vergil reflects as he turns on the last of the valves out back. He can hear the hot water start to flow in from the volcanic spring somewhere nearby. _When did _both_ of us get so old? _Dante at least had gotten to _live_; he won, in fact. He defeated the demon king. Vergil had gotten nothing. Those ten years are almost blank for him, with only vague and hellish memories when he tries to think of them. He may never know what he did, or who he killed. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to separate his own actions from those of Nelo Angelo. A wave of self-pity and self-hatred washes over him. _You have the woman of your dreams. Why can't you be happy with that?_ he demands of himself.

"You all right back there?" his brother calls from in front.

Vergil takes a moment to compose himself. "I'm on my way." he calls back. He'll have to work that out later. For now, Elsa is waiting.

Everyone is gathered beneath the signs above the porch. Elsa smiles as he joins them. He smiles back. "Madame et monsieur..." Dante says in a horrific French accent. "Your sauna awaits." He bows low. Anna takes this as her cue and hauls the front door open. The queen and the devil awkwardly step forward. Anna notices her sister's gentle trembling and puts a hand upon her shoulder. "You'll be fine Elsa." she tells her. Elsa smiles bravely, but as the door begins to close, she finds it's all she can do to keep the ice at bay.

Vergil offers her his hand. He isn't sure if it's the right thing to do. Nevertheless, he holds it out for a good five seconds before realizing she doesn't want to take it. She can hardly even look at him. "Let's get this over with." she says. She walks toward the sauna, her shoulders hunched, her hands wringing. Vergil follows closely behind. He puts a hand on the door as she moves to open it. "You don't have to do this." he reminds her. Elsa hesitates, torn between her perception of duty and her unusual upbringing. Ice starts to form under her feet, though it's already struggling against the heat that emanates from the next room. "We have- we have to _try_, we have to-" she murmurs frantically.

Vergil takes her by the hands. She jumps and looks up at him. "No we don't." he says. "We've already spent the night together. Two nights in fact. We can leave it at that for a while." His body is wishing he would shut up and open the door.

Elsa's still unsure, so he kisses her. Her lips are cool and damp. It tastes as though she's been crying. "Yes...?" he asks. He kisses her again, a little more urgently this time, but not too much. "...or no?" he asks, kissing her on her furrowed brow.

Elsa opens her eyes slowly. "Ask me again." she says, almost smiling. Vergil does as he's told.

"Yes..." He kisses behind her ear. "Or no?" He kisses her on her cheek. Elsa is definitely smiling now. "Yes..." He kisses her on her neck. "Or no?" He kisses her on the mouth. It's a long time before they break away. When they do, Elsa's _yes_ is so faint he can hardly believe his ears. He waits a moment to be sure.

"Yes." she whispers again. Her voice is low and quiet. It sends shivers down his spine, more powerful than anything he's ever felt. It takes everything he has to let her go and not begin ravishing her once more. Instead, he straightens up and opens the door. She smiles at him before lowering her gaze as she crosses the threshold.

It's not quite as boiling hot as Vergil had it imagined it would be. It's almost, dare he say, _perfect_: that special kind of warmth that seems to creep into your bones and warm you up from the inside out. Elsa sits on one of the wooden benches, grateful for the towels someone thought to leave them. She tries wrapping a blanket of cold around herself to keep her dress from melting, but it's harder than she thought. No matter how tightly she weaves the spell, it still seems to keep on melting. She grabs a handful of towels and hides behind them so as not to leave them wet and slimy while her dress dissolves. Vergil has already started to get undressed. "We should've brought a change of clothes." she says, immensely thankful that the towels also conceal her blush.

"I'm sure we'll think of something." Vergil says as he wraps a towel around his waist. Elsa waves away the last clinging remnants of her dress and hastens to do the same. She looks away, hoping he hasn't noticed how red her cheeks have turned, and tenses a little when he lays a hand on top of hers. "Did I ever tell you you're beautiful?" he asks.

She thinks back over the course of their relationship. "No," she says hesitantly. "No you haven't."

"Well..." He draws it out as long as he can. Finally he says, "You're beautiful."

"That's it?" Elsa asks, wishing she didn't sound so needy.

"You didn't fall in love with me for my poetry." Vergil says dryly.

"I didn't know you wrote any." Elsa says with a teasing smile.

"Well played" he admits, smiling back at her. He's a little bit surprised when she leans forward and kisses him; usually it's up to him to initiate it; but he doesn't mind. Nor does he mind when she begins to move closer to him on the bench, her lips still pressed against his.

He certainly doesn't mind when she climbs into his lap, forgetting for once how close to naked they both are.

He doesn't even mind when she ends up pushing him over so he's lying flat on the bench. A lifetime's desire for physical contact has to be expressed somehow. And right now, Vergil would say Elsa is doing just fine.

It isn't long before Elsa is content to just lie there on top of the man she loves. Only a small part of her is capable of realizing how inappropriate this is. The rest is full of this blissful contentment that's still so foreign to her. The lovers drape their arms around each other; not hugging, just holding. They're too tired to hug. It might be hours before they're ready to leave. Elsa is not looking forward to having to explain herself when she gets back. Then she realizes she doesn't have to. Every once in a while, it's good to be the queen.

Vergil is hardly thinking of anything at all. The ice queen snuggling up against him is provoking strange, if unfortunately natural, responses in his lower body. He tries to keep his hands still and his mind empty; easier said than done. She's just so soft in all the perfect places... He presses his lips to the top of her head, and on a whim begins to run his fingers through her hair. Elsa looks up at him. Suddenly it's very important that he sees her with her hair down. "Can I...?" he asks. She nods curiously and gets up. She sits with her back to him, facing the wall, letting him finish what he started. They're in a trance until it is over. Though he's never had the chance or the desire to do this before, Vergil manages to untangle her hair without pulling too hard and hurting her. When it's done, he puts a hand upon her bare shoulder. Elsa turns to face him, slowly, achingly slowly.

Once again, words fail him. He starts to open his mouth, "I-", then he thinks better of it and kisses her. Their hearts are pounding. Their breathing is rough. Somehow, Elsa gathers the foresight needed to scatter the towels upon the stone floor to cushion their fall before they tumble off the bench. Now it's Vergil's turn. He plants a trail of burning kisses along Elsa's neck. She whimpers. He pauses, not sure how far he should push the situation. She whimpers again, this time in frustration. "We should probably...hold off on that." he pants.

Elsa knows he's right, but that doesn't make it any easier. "You shouldn't start something you aren't willing to finish." she murmurs.

Vergil props himself up on his arms, the better to look into her eyes as he tells her, "You have no idea how much I would like to finish that." Elsa blushes. "But it's not something we should try until we're both ready for it."

Elsa continues to blush. "I think I..._do_ know." she says softly.

Vergil freezes. All at once, he rolls off of her. He keeps saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again, though he really isn't sure he is. Elsa puts her hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that it's okay. They sit in silence while he tries to force his body to relax. After a while, Elsa struggles to her feet. "I'll be outside," she tells him. "Not out_side_, just...out...in the store." Vergil nods. He doesn't trust himself to watch her go. Several minutes pass before he feels calm enough to join her. He takes his time getting dressed, and takes a deep breath before stepping out of the sauna.

The sudden shock of the cold night air rips into his lungs. He ignores it and looks around for Elsa. She's pacing the shop, and looks up gratefully as he comes out. She's made herself a brand new dress, exactly like the old one, but she's left her hair down. Perhaps it takes too long to redo. "I've been thinking." she says. "Once we get back to the castle, I think I'd like to have another dress made. I don't think this-" She holds up her arms. "-suits me any more..." It's a symbol of her past, of her isolation, but she's not alone any more.

Vergil's grown rather fond of it, but he agrees. "It isn't the most comfortable thing to hug. Not like you."

Elsa smiles and holds out a hand. "Shall we?" she asks.

Vergil takes it. "We shall." he says. He looks back at the sauna. "Let's leave the cleaning up for Dante. I'm sure he won't mind." He's lying, of course.

She laughs and opens the door to their future.

* * *

_And now I have finally seen the end.  
I'm not expecting you to care  
That I have finally seen the light,  
And I have finally realized:  
I need to love...  
I need to love..._

_Come to me,_  
_Just in a dream._  
_Come on and rescue me._  
_Yes I know, I can be wrong._  
_Maybe I'm too headstrong..._  
_Our love is_

**Madness** \- Muse

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**There's a lot of myself in this story. A lot of advice I wish I could take, and a desire for things to be simple and clear-cut when they seldom are.**

**If you enjoyed this, and a quite frankly staggering number of people appear to, keep an eye out for the as-yet untitled sequel involving Nero, where I'll try to wrap things up and give everyone a change to shine.**

* * *

Frozen, as well as all the characters and places associated with it, is owned by Disney Animation (all hail, please don't sue etc).

Devil May Cry, as well as all the characters and places associated with it, is owned by Capcom.

None of the songs or other works of art referenced in the chapter openings are owned by me. I own nothing except the way the words are arranged. (And possibly not even that.)


End file.
